What Remains
by Objessions
Summary: Sequel to For My Next Trick and All Part of the Service. Mac's going to spy school and Jack is ... probably not doing what he's been ordered to do. Expect my usual hurt/comfort, family, humor, and action. Not to mention my potty mouth. Standard disclaimers apply.
1. Chapter 1

Mac had an undeniable spring in his step as he headed toward the exit of the company infirmary. He'd busted ass in physical therapy and rehabbed his shoulder in half the projected recovery time. And that was great, but it wasn't all he'd managed.

He'd just been officially medically cleared from his shoulder injury and passed the company physical with an hour to spare to get Director Thornton the paperwork so he could be in the next class at the Clandestine Services Training Academy, all in one fell swoop. He was going to get to full agent status and go after O'Neill.

It was kind of the icing on the cake of his day.

The cake itself had been kicking Jack's ass all over the Hollywood Hills on a throwback hang-in-there run this morning before work. He normally wasn't one to rub that stuff in, but Jack was the one who'd thrown down, teasing Mac, saying he'd been slacking too much on training, galavanting all over town these days. He'd gone on to joke that Mac probably wouldn't get cleared today, seeing as how he was more interested in female company than being in secret agent shape.

Of course then he'd had to laugh and say that you also couldn't get medically cleared if you kept not showing up at the infirmary. Mac didn't point out that he'd missed those two appointments for totally legitimate reasons. However, leaving Jack in the dust had been very satisfying.

Well, that and Nikki wanted to go out again tonight.

Yeah, as far as Fridays went, this one was especially awesome.

He opened the door that led back to the small waiting area on the way to the exit and started laughing. "Don't tell me … I really did run you into a heart attack this morning, right?"

Jack chuckled in response, figuring the kid was probably surprised to see him. Mac hadn't mentioned this appointment. Jack had found out about it from Patty. He figured either Mac was planning on blowing it off again, or he was worried he wouldn't be cleared. One way or the other, Jack figured he'd better be around for it.

"That's damn near accurate, Mr. Legs Like a Gazelle, who is by the way the only person I've ever met who isn't a damned drill instructor that thinks running flat out and sprinting the hills qualifies as a good time."

Mac laughed, but he knew Jack had been out on a local reconnaissance job related to some cartel activity in the area all day. Jack had made it sound so low key, Mac hadn't given it much thought, but his presence in Medical made him reconsider his casual attitude. "Seriously though, what're you doing down here? You okay?"

"Dude, it's me. Of course I'm okay. I'm always okay, I'm the king of okay … you know what, forget I said that last part. That is not a title I want gettin' around to the ladies at the office, if you know what I'm saying."

Mac shook his head. He headed out the double doors, and Jack quickly followed. As they waited for the elevator, Mac tried again. "You're not down here trying to hook up with that nurse again, are you?"

Jack grinned, "Well now that you mention it, I did happen to run into Ms. Leary at the desk while I was waitin' for you. _And_ Tracey said she'd _love_ to catch a movie this weekend, if you really want to know."

Mac stepped onto the elevator, flashing a grin and giving another small headshake. "So your ass won't be parked on my couch watching _Die Hard_ with Bozer so you can discuss it's cinematic merits all weekend again? Good! I'd like to get to use the tv once in a while, too," he laughed.

"Yeah, cause you weren't better than the dvd commentary runnin' your yap about the movie three times in a row last Saturday," Jack teased. They stepped off the elevator. "But .. makin' a date to clear the decks for you to binge that Da Vinci whateverthehell show you're obsessed with wasn't on the agenda. I came down cause I hadn't heard from you. Patty said you were finally seeing the doctor. I was afraid you got bad news, kid."

Mac showed Jack the folder he held with a grin. "No bad news."

"Yeah? You're good?"

"Good enough," he said, turning down the hall to Thornton's office and checking his watch. He caught Jack's look of vague concern at his non-answer. He flashed a real smile. "Passed the physical, and as far as my shoulder goes, it's good as new. My I's are dotted and t's crossed, and in half the time anybody thought it would take. I'm great, Jack. Honest."

He tapped on Thornton's door.

Jack grinned. "You're a serious badass, kid. Hell, you barely have a scar. Way you bounced back after all that, that was some serious superhero shit. Like … um maybe Wolverine … or, hey didja ever read Deadpool when you were a kid?"

Mac laughed. "Deadpool was forbidden by Gramps … So of course I did. I wish I was that good with one liners. They ought to make a movie about him. Not like the crappy guest appearances, but a real Wade Wilson movie."

"Aw, Hell yeah. That'd be awesome! We should celebrate you getting your golden ticket to official agent status with beer and a trip through the MCU tonight, man."

"Can't," Mac grinned hugely, just as Thornton called out for him to come in. Then he gave a double raise of his eyebrows that tried to look cocky but it was slightly ruined by how quickly he blushed. "Got a date."

"Nikki?" Jack smirked.

"Yeah, and … _she_ asked _me_." He opened the door and Jack started to follow him in. "What're you doing?"

"Now that you're officially gonna be an agent, I'm officially your body gua … I mean personal security, kid. Where you go, I go."

"Clingy much?" Mac teased.

"You ain't seen nothin' yet there, almost-Agent MacGyver."

Mac just rolled his eyes, holding the door open for Jack.

"Hey there, Patty," Jack greeted, preceding him. He flopped into the nearest chair in front of her desk. "Our boy has some good news."

Thornton was already looking at him with raised eyebrows when her turned to her from closing the door. "Yes?" she asked.

Mac passed her the folder, dropping into the classic 'at ease' posture and then correcting that to just putting his hands in his pockets. Damned if he was going to fall back into military habits just because the DOD was still paying him. "Yes, ma'am. I can head to training whenever a slot is available."

She'd already seen the report from Medical. It was compiled during Mac's visit and sent to her almost as soon as he walked out the door. She hadn't had time to read the whole thing, but the signature on the Fit for Duty form was all she really needed for this conversation.

She'd been a little concerned two weeks ago when he first applied for clearance and then no-showed on the appointment, and promptly no-showed again three days later. Especially after reading his detailed psych evaluation.

Not that there was anything especially remarkable about it other than his IQ, but it noted clinically something she'd already noticed, and been told. Mac had a tendency to ignore his own well-being, his own pain, if he thought there was a job to do. And he hated admitting to any weakness or vulnerability, whether there was a job on the line or not. Thornton had a few ideas as to why that was, but they weren't especially relevant.

She'd thought perhaps he'd avoided Medical knowing he wouldn't be cleared but hoping that his lack of showing up would be forgotten, knowing how much Thornton wanted him to finish his training. If he hadn't gone today she would have had a talk with him about it, but perhaps his stated reasons of something coming up in the lab were genuine.

She smiled at him, for her it was a broad smile of approval, but to Mac who didn't know her small range of expressions all that well, it barely registered. He shifted his weight uncomfortably. "Unless you need me to do anything else?" It was definitely a question. "Ma'am," he finished after clearing his throat.

"This will do, MacGyver. And while I'm surprised at the speed of your recovery, I can't say I'm displeased. The ability to bounce back after an injury, physical or otherwise is a valuable attribute in this line of work."

She seemed to expect him to say something. "So, I've gathered, Director Thornton," he replied with a wry smile. Between he and Jack the last several months had been a long line of bad days and bandages.

"I suppose you have," she said, and her smile was a little more apparent now. "As soon as you've completed all the in house training modules, I'll reserve you a spot in the next field school class."

Mac frowned. "I've done all of those, too. I know those usually take longer for people, but I …"

"You haven't completed weapons training," she said bluntly.

Mac's features darkened into an expression a shade past the most pissed Jack thought he'd ever seen the kid, but his voice was perfectly level, pleasant even. "Director, we discussed this when I took the job."

She nodded. "We discussed that you won't carry firearms for the purpose of completing missions for this organization. We did not discuss restructuring the training plan to fit your preferences."

Mac tensed. He'd already been pretty wired about coming in here to ask her for the final go-ahead; anyone could tell by the way he was still standing even though there were plenty of places to sit. His mouth opened a fraction and Jack could hear exactly the sort of thing Mac was about to say that would almost assuredly get him fired with almost perfect clarity. Jack jumped in before that could happen. "Where's that pesky weapons training form, Patty? I musta forgot to sign the damned thing. Sorry 'bout that, Mac."

Mac cocked an eyebrow at Jack but didn't say anything.

Thornton leaned back in her chair and folded her hands in front of her. "MacGyver completed the weapons training? Really?"

It wasn't a question at all, it was a clear call of bullshit, but Jack just plastered on a cocky grin, one that had a little sharpness to it. "Director, I'm one of your most senior weapons instructors, and I am willing to certify that Angus MacGyver can operate, repair, or god forbid repurpose any damned gun in the armory. And he knows more about explosives than anyone here, including Caffrey who's been blowing shit up since about the Second World War. Mac's ready for this," Jack finished with a single definitive nod.

Thornton passed a yellow form across the desk to him. "You know lying on one of these documents is a felony, don't you, Jack?"

Jack turned to his partner. "You know how to use everything downstairs that's on this form?"

Mac leaned forward, took a quick look, and grinned. "Probably for things the manufacturers never dreamed of."

"See? We're golden." Jack signed the form with a flourish and handed it back to Thornton, giving the pen a second look before slipping it into his pocket with a wink at the boss. "So, when we leavin'? I got some recruit evaluations I'll have to table."

Thornton nearly laughed. "What do you mean 'we' Agent Dalton?"

"I mean me and Mac. When we leavin' for DC?"

She glared at him. The location of the field school was not supposed to be disclosed to agents in advance. Since Mac didn't seem surprised by this information she had to assume Jack had mentioned it before. Although it was possible that Carpenter let that cat out of the bag. She seemed very intent on Mac having a positive impression of her.

"As you should well know, Dalton, there's no 'we' in the field training program. Going in on your own is part of the training."

When Mac saw Jack's expression change he had a second to think _uh oh_ before Jack's volume climbed about five decibels. "I'm his bodyguard! Mac's agreed to it, asked for us to work together even. And … You said yourself if he's not going to carry guns he has to have a bodyguard and I'm it!"

"Jack, that's not how field school works," Thornton said calmly.

"Maybe it should be!" Jack asserted.

This was familiar territory for Mac. As his Overwatch in Afghanistan Jack had followed him everywhere, even when they weren't actively on duty. He took his protection detail to crazy lengths. Mac assumed Jack was always like that, so he wasn't surprised Jack felt that way now. However, if no one else was showing up with their partner, Mac didn't want to either. He wanted to pass the school on his own merits, like everyone else.

"Jack, it'll be fine. I'll let you know how it's going every day," Mac said, in an effort to placate his bodyguard … _Damnit, now he's got me doing to, too_ , Mac thought.

"There. You have it directly from the horse's mouth, so to speak." Thornton raised her eyebrows like she was daring Jack to keep arguing. Then she turned her gaze to Mac. "Although, you're not allowed to communicate with anyone here while you're at school. You're not even allowed to tell anyone that you've gotten the call to report for training."

"I'm sorry?" Mac said, not sure what she meant.

"You won't be told in advance that you're leaving. You'll just be working under the assumption that you could get the call at any time. At home, at work, at the beach … You'll need to be ready to go. And once you leave, you won't be in touch with DXS for the entire four weeks of training."

Jack was giving him a familiar 'We'll talk later' but he hadn't opened his mouth again so Mac just nodded and said, "Yes, ma'am. I understand."

"Dalton, are _you_ clear on the parameters?" She asked archly.

"Oh, yes, you bet, Director Thornton. Absolutely."

"Butt out of your partners training!" she said, and Mac could have sworn she was concealing a smile. "I don't need two members of the same ops team getting kicked out after a week and a half."

Jack was indignant. "I did not get kicked out! I graduated early!"

This time the smile was unmistakable. "Only because if they'd actually washed you out, they'd have had to let you come back and try again under our agreement with them."

Mac snickered. "Who'd have figured you to be bad at school?"

"Very funny, Carl's Junior. Not all of us can be straight A genius brain people."

"I told you before, I didn't always get A's. I got a C in Bio, remember?"

Neither Jack nor Thornton missed the slight satisfaction in his voice whenever he reported that fact about himself. Thornton decided it was a lighter note to end this meeting on. She still needed to read the full medical report and meet with Oversight to confirm authorization for Mac to head into the final leg of his training. "I'll expect straight A's from you this time, MacGyver. I don't care what subjects they throw at you. Although I suppose if you don't manage to blow up the entire septic system like some other agents I know, I'd even consider straight C's a win."

Her tone suggested they were dismissed, so Mac thanked her for her time and for her consideration. Jack informed her that they'd talk more on Monday about this no bodyguard situation, and she wished them a pleasant weekend. She smiled slightly when she heard Mac as they headed down the quiet hallway. "You blew up the septic system? With what? I've got to hear this story."

"Well now," came the reply. "I seriously thought it was just a training grenade …"

It was a good thing they couldn't go together, she thought. There'd be nothing left of the place by the time the two of them got through with it.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N - Hey guys. I know how most of us feel about Nikki. promise she isn't going to be in this story much other than maybe some hints that she's not one of the good guys (because I honestly can't stand her character - I hated Nikki on the OG too so apparently that's just a Jess thing). But I'm trying to conform to canon and we know they were a thing from the get go. Also, I needed her to be a plot device. *shrugs* Hope you still enjoy! ~ J_

"Hey, Mac."

Mac glanced up from the magnifier he was using to get a better look at the internal workings of a malfunctioning sat phone. His face lit with a broad smile. He thought he'd smelled her perfume in the background of the hot glue smell that always permeated his work space. "Hey, Nikki." He glanced at his watch. "Sorry I missed our lunch. I got caught up in a project for Perrotta's team."

She stepped closer to what he was doing, peering at it like she was interested for a second, then dismissing it by turning back to him, her fingers resting lightly on his arm. "When you didn't show I thought maybe Thornton finally dropped the hammer on sending you to school."

Mac shrugged, but not enough to disrupt her contact. "Unfortunately not. I just lost track of time. Sorry," he said again, really meaning it.

One of the consistent problems Mac had with establishing any kind of love life was how easily distracted he became by projects, whether work or his own. Once he was focused, the building could probably burn down around him and he might not notice unless ash got on whatever he was doing.

He wouldn't go so far as to presume he could call Nikki a girlfriend yet. But he did know that he wouldn't mind that being the case.

She smiled and there was something almost speculative about it. "No worries. I actually had my fingers crossed for you that you were headed to DC. Thornton's kept you dangling for, what? Two weeks, now?"

Mac spun the stool he was sitting on to face her fully. "Two and a half, actually. But who's counting?" She laughed lightly. "Enough about Thornton, though. It's after five. Since I accidentally blew off our lunch, could I make it up to you by buying you dinner?"

Nikki sat on the edge of his work table. "Actually, I came to ask you if you wanted to come over to my place tonight."

"I … um … sure. I mean, that'd be nice. I'm not much help in the kitchen if you don't need to just reheat something or char it over a fire. Do you cook?"

The meaning of the earlier speculative smile became a little more obvious. "Well, I'm not great with dinner … But I make an excellent breakfast."

It hung in the air for a beat.

"I … oh."

Mac could feel his ears warming. They'd been seeing each other quite a bit, but he certainly didn't think their relationship had gotten to breakfast yet. In fact it hadn't gotten much past a good night on the sidewalk yet. He was caught off guard, but he managed a worldly smile that was a convincing match for hers.

"I like breakfast."

0-0-0

Mac was nursing his second deep glass of wine. He didn't want more but it seemed impolite to refuse while they were waiting for their takeout delivery. He hadn't eaten since before his run at around four a.m., so even halfway into the first glass had Mac feeling pretty buzzed.

Now, he had to admit, whether it would get him called a lightweight or not, he was leaving buzzed in the rear view pretty quickly, and if he didn't get something to eat soon, he was going to wind up asleep on Nikki's couch rather than having the evening her significant smoldering gaze promised.

She came back from the kitchen with a fresh bottle of wine and she raised her eyebrows at his still full glass. "Something wrong with the vintage?" She paused for less than a second. "Don't hurt my feelings though; it's a family winery."

Mac's dimples flickered in a partial, if slightly embarrassed smile. "It's very nice." He didn't want to necessarily admit that he wasn't a particularly experienced or enthusiastic drinker. He took several long drinks that would have told anyone he wasn't much of a connoisseur. "I'm usually just more of a beer guy." He took another long drink to show how very much he wouldn't want to hurt her feelings. "I do like this though, honestly."

Nikki sat down next to him, so close her thigh was pressing into his. Mac was momentarily uncomfortable at the unexpected encroachment into his personal space (something he'd been struggling with since this most recent detour to Afghanistan). But he was also pleased she was interested in being close. A woman that beautiful had never even noticed he was alive, he thought. He knew Jack insisted there was plenty of evidence to the contrary, but Mac couldn't quite make the mental leap to believe him.

"Have you ever been to a vineyard?" she asked.

Mac shook his head.

"My family has a place out in Ojai, if you ever want to check one out. Maybe wine country will win you over if a glass of our best Syrah hasn't convinced you wine is superior to beer yet."

He couldn't read her tone or her expression. He thought it was openly flirtatious, but there was something else there, too. An edge he'd never noticed before. He didn't know what it meant. What he did know was that he found it damned sexy. It seemed like as good an excuse as any to put down his last little bit of wine on her coffee table. He turned toward her. "I don't need fermented grapes to convince me traveling with you would be worth my time."

That was all it took. Her lips were sealed over his almost before he'd finished talking. She somehow managed to put down her own glass and was straddling his lap. For Mac, life became all blond hair, and hands, and heat.

She'd gotten through about half the buttons on his shirt when his phone rang from his back pocket. He said something, but Nikki just kissed him again, muffling his words.

After two more rings, he forced his way up for air. "Mmmmffffmmm … It's Thornton," he asserted breathlessly.

"Damnit," Nikki growled, and flopped over onto the couch already rebuttoning her blouse that she'd somehow managed to undo at the same time she'd been working on his shirt. _How many hands does she have?_ Mac thought, with amusement and a fair amount of appreciation.

He cleared his throat and answered the phone on the last ring before it would go to voicemail. "Director Thornton."

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything, MacGyver."

"No, ma'am," he lied smoothly and Nikki cocked an impressed eyebrow. Thornton usually had the ability to set most agents stammering. And Mac was still a trainee. He didn't act like one though. He was a pro through and through, made for the work.

Nikki didn't need to hear both sides of the conversation. From Mac's responses and expressions, she knew this was _the_ call.

"I'm sorry to spring this on you on a Friday night," Thornton began, not sorry and not sounding it. "But I've just gotten the green light to send you to school. You are wheels up in … roughly twenty minutes."

"Yes, ma'am. LAX?" he asked, looking around for his keys.

"I've assigned someone take you to the airport. Commercial flight under your own ID. Someone from DXS will move your car to our long term parking. Your driver should be pulling up outside Ms. Carpenter's building now with your ticket and instructions. Don't keep him waiting."

He decided to ignore the fact that DXS had known where to find him. "Alright. I just need to run to the parking garage and grab my suitcase. I've been packed and ready to go since you said to prepare, Director."

"No suitcases. You go in cold. Anything you have with you now is all you get to bring." She paused to let that sink it, to see if he'd respond, but he didn't say anything. "Except your phone. No calls to your friends or co-workers here. Except to Bozer who you may call now and tell you've got a rare opportunity to travel with our engineering team to a conference on the east coast. You don't remember the details. You're too excited to be included. You'll be busy. But you'll text him. Which we will take care of from your phone while you're away. You'll hand your device to the driver when you get in. It's a maroon Honda Civic. He's waiting."

Mac was silent for a minute. Then his just calmly said, "Yes, ma'am."

"Straight A's, MacGyver." She hung up.

Mac let out a long breath through puffed up cheeks. "Okay," he sighed, raising his eyes to Nikki's. "How much am I going to hate this?"

"I wondered when you'd finally ask," she laughed. "Probably about a hundred times more than basic training, but at least it's only a month."

Mac didn't point out that Basic was only six weeks longer than that and he'd at least had some of his belongings with him there. He just put on an apologetic smile. "I can't seem to keep a date with you today."

"You can make it up to me when you get back." She smiled and let her eyes travel over him in a way that left his face feeling warm again. "But be warned, my standards have gone up significantly with all this anticipation."

"I'll certainly try," he said and couldn't help the quick almost imperceptible duck his head dipped into before giving her a smile. "I'll call you as soon as I'm back."

She smiled at his momentary flush, the slightly awkward tone his voice had taken on and she stepped toward him, buttoning his shirt, that he'd clearly forgotten was still open, and planting a firm, lingering kiss on his mouth.

"For luck," she said stepping away and leading him toward the door.

He grabbed his worn brown messenger bag from beside the door and slung it over his shoulder. She opened the door and this time Mac found a little bit of the confidence Jack and Bozer constantly assured him he should have and kissed her goodbye.

When she closed the door, he dialed Bozer and started down the back stairs of the apartment building. He couldn't have said why he chose that root exactly, but his brain picked it without consulting him first.

He was still trying to get off the phone with his absolutely-thrilled-for-him roommate when he saw the compact sedan parked almost directly across from the apartment building's doors. A tall, lean, somewhat intimidating dark haired man stood next to the car. Mac recognized him as Brock (whether first name or last Mac didn't know), one of the ops/security guys who consistently kicked the crap out of everyone else in every combat based fitness class Mac had attended at DXS so far.

"Sorry Boze. I gotta go. If I don't go grab my extra clothes from my gym locker I'm getting on the plane with no clean socks. I'm not missing out on the chance to show these guys what I'm made of." That at least wasn't a lie.

"Alright, Roomie, you have fun and …"

Bozer was probably ready to go on for another fifteen minutes, but Mac just ended the call and slid his phone into his pocket, approaching Brock from the rear of the car.

"Evening, Brock," he greeted pleasantly, concealing his satisfaction that he'd clearly startled the man, even if the evidence was only in his eyes for a split second.

"MacGyver," he said with a nod. Then he held out his hand. "Phone."

Mac rolled his eyes and handed it over. "Okay."

"You wouldn't be the first agent in training who was hoping we'd forget to collect it before you head out to school."

Mac shrugged. "Doesn't bother me."

"What's that? Didn't Thornton tell you no luggage?" Brock tipped his chin at Mac's messenger bag.

"This isn't luggage. I carry this with me all the time. It's got some projects in it, notes, some tools, roll of tape. Just junk mostly. Oh, gum and protein bars, too."

"So it's a purse?"

Mac shook his head but grinned and said, "Sure. Why not?" The guy was trying to get a rise out of him. He held it out from his side, holding it open with the other hand. "You can search it if you want."

Brock didn't touch it, just quickly eyeballed the contents. "Fine."

Mac relaxed fractionally and went around the car to the passenger side. "We going or what?"

Brock frowned but got in and started the car. "You seem pretty cocky, MacGyver. Either nobody told you just how hard this is going to be, or that _is_ alcohol on your breath."

Mac shrugged again and started digging in his bag for his pack of gum. "Little of both?"

The man's stony face cracked into a smile as he pulled into traffic. "Well, I guess knowing what I know, from the rumors anyway, about how you came to DXS, maybe you're entitled to be a little cocky. The alcohol on the other hand …"

"Hey man, this was supposed to be the start of my weekend. And it was shaping up to be a very _pleasant_ weekend when Thornton called me."

Brock went so far as to chuckle. "Yeah, well, it isn't gonna be now. Best get a good meal on the plane, get some coffee. No booze. Thornton won't tell you that, but be good and sober when you land, cuz the boss lady at the school will make sure you're miserable right out of the gate, kid."

"I don't like to drink when I fly anyway."

"Yeah? Me; I'd rather be hammered. I hate to fly, to be honest."

Mac glanced at him, wondering if he was being baited. After a recent team building retreat at a rock climbing gym, he figured his fear of heights had made the rounds in the office rumor mill. But Brock looked genuine, just a driver casually chatting the way drivers the world over do. "Yeah, me too. But alcohol makes it harder to stay rational about it."

"You don't like to fly? Your partner's a pilot!"

"Yeah, and he's been trying to get me to agree to flying lessons for years." Mac gave a slight chuckle. "Part of me thinks it'd be cool. But the rest of me is really afraid of heights so I probably never will take him up in it."

"You already have a reputation as kind of a badass, after what happened when you came on. I'm surprised there's something you're that afraid of." Mac just shrugged. His natural impulse was to say something self-deprecating, but he was one of the youngest people at DXS; a reputation for badassery wouldn't hurt. "It ever keep you out of the air?"

Mac smirked a little. "Not yet, but I'm not quite twenty four, so I guess we'll see."

They spent the last few minutes of the ride exchanged flight related semi-amusing horror stories. When the arrived at the airport, Brock pulled up the the curb. From his expression Mac thought maybe he'd made another friend at DXS.

"Thanks for the lift." Mac opened the door to get out.

"Good luck, Mac. Sorry about having to confiscate your phone. There's all sorts of weird protocols around training."

"Not your fault, man. I'll live without the internet in my pocket for a few weeks I guess. But I am gonna miss it." He slung his bag over his shoulder. "Thanks again."

He closed the door and waved, heading through the doors. He had his ticket and instructions tucked away in his jacket, but he'd already memorized the information. He was cutting it close to boarding timewise, but he slipped into the nearest men's room on his way to the gate. When he got inside a stall in the empty room, he opened his messenger bag, shifted its contents, and took out the burner phone he'd acquired when he'd learned school meant cut off from resources. He hated crap like that. It was so arbitrary and pointless.

He dialed a familiar number.

Across town, Jack Dalton was on his way to pick up Tracey Leary for their movie date. He glanced at the phone lit up and ringing on the passenger seat. It was an unfamiliar number. Probably somebody he owed money. He let it go to voicemail.

It immediately started ringing again.

Against his better judgement he answered. "Dalton Airways, most flights have cabin crews but we have cabin bouncers."

"I'm not a bill collector, Jack."

"Mac! What's up? Didja lose your phone?"

"No, DXS security confiscated it. I'm at the airport headed for school."

"Goddamnit, Patty promised, she promised mind you, that she would bend the rules and at least tell me when she was gonna sendja."

"I'm guessing being a good liar is part of her job."

"Mac … are you okay?"

"Yeah … I mean … I'm a little nervous … but everybody has been selling me on how much this is gonna suck for weeks. And I got the impression from my driver that maybe they've been _under_ selling it."

Casual observation about the boss … admitting to nerves. "How much did you have to drink before you got the call?"

 _How did he always know stuff like that?_ "A couple glasses of wine. Big glasses."

"Wine? You?"

Mac laughed. "I was with Nikki." Then he couldn't help himself. "She invited me over … For breakfast." He could feel his dopey grin and he didn't even care.

"Well, well," Jack said with a grin of his own. "I like tipsy Mac. Sober Mac is not a kiss and tell kind of guy."

Instead of getting defensive, Mac's grin spread. It _had_ been quite a bit of wine. "There was definitely kissing. And we would have gotten to the real not telling stuff if Thornton hadn't called."

That refocused Jack. Patty had promised to make an exception and keep him in the loop. And she'd already broken it. He wondered exactly what the hell else was going on. "Speaking of calls, why aren't you calling me from your phone?"

"They took mine."

"Oh right, of course they did. So …"

"So I got a burner phone. I'm not gonna not talk to my partner for a month." He paused, getting to his real reasons. "And I don't want to be out of the loop on the Mazari operation."

Jack chuckled. A burner phone. Right under DXS's nose. Good God, that kid … He was something else. "They're gonna take it, kid. I guarantee it."

Mac shook his head like Jack was there to talk to. "I've got a plan for that, too." He listened to the muffled sounds of the PA system. "Shit, that's my flight. I gotta go!"

Without waiting for a reply, he ended the call, dropped the phone in his jacket pocket, and ran for his gate.

By the time Mac was over Nevada, Jack Dalton was sitting in a movie theater with a beautiful woman, not paying attention to either one.


	3. Chapter 3

Mac was about halfway across the country when he started to feel really sober again. He'd been steadily downing coffee and had eaten all the the unappetizing in-flight meal a little while ago and for the life of him couldn't remember what it had been.

They were flying through apparently endless thunderstorms, which made the flight pretty bumpy. Mac wasn't prone to airsickness himself, he wasn't even usually an especially nervous flier despite his fear of heights, but it was pretty hard to even pretend to enjoy flavorless spaghetti ( _that's what it had been!_ he remembered) when everyone around you seemed to be clutching airsick bags.

He shifted in his seat, trying to get in top of a pretty serious case of nerves. While he'd still been buzzed he'd been able to tell himself it was his natural dislike for being 40,000 feet in the sky, since of course drinking made it harder to rationalize with himself. Now that he'd sobered up, he knew it for what it was. He had a worse case of butterflies over this whole spy school thing, as Jack called it, than he'd had about basic training.

A litany of " _you're not ready_ ", " _what if you screw this up?_ ", and " _maybe you should go back to MIT_ " played on a loop in his head no matter how hard he was trying to ignore it. He wished he knew more of what to expect. Jack had offered up information, but Mac had declined, saying if he wasn't supposed to go in knowing, Jack shouldn't tell him, lest they both get in trouble. At the time, he'd felt like knowing more than the other recruits would be an unfair advantage. Now he wished he'd grilled his partner for every damned detail.

Suddenly he was grinning a little to himself. Jack couldn't have told him much about how the month would go. He'd only been there a week and a half. Mac wondered if he could dig up any entertaining dirt on Jack from the school to tease him with the next time he got all annoying and overprotective.

He sort of wanted to at least text Jack right now, to hear, once again, that Jack thought he'd breeze through this course with flying colors, but his burner phone didn't have any extras, so he couldn't just use a WiFi enabled app to get in touch.

He sighed without realizing it. He was so busy mentally testing scenarios about school, it startled him a little when the older woman sitting next to the window turned and asked, "Turbulence bothering you?"

"I … um … No, not really."

She smiled gently. "You keep holding your breath, then sighing," she observed.

Mac answered almost without thinking. "I'm traveling for work. Headed to a corporate retreat that I'm not all that keen on. I hate all that fake smiling go team stuff they do at those. I was just wishing I was going with a friend from the office. He'd at least make the endless powerpoints a little more entertaining." He had to conceal his satisfaction at how smoothly the lie had come to him.

"Ah, I see. I'm traveling for work myself. And it's my anniversary. I was just wondering how much trouble I'd get in if I turned my phone on and called my husband."

Mac shook his head. "You shouldn't do that, ma'am. Cell phones can interfere with the aircraft's radio through parasitic demodulation and …"

"Parasitic ..? Like worms?"

"Parasitic demodulation is when the radiated radiofrequency of the global system for mobile communication impacts the sensing amplifier and degrades the signal through a mechanism that …"

"Young man, was any of that in English?" she interrupted.

Mac blushed, just a little. How would he put this for Jack? "Sorry … Cell phones make the radio in the cockpit make a really annoying, distracting noise."

"Well I'm annoyed and distracted by being away from home already."

Mac nodded. "Yes, ma'am. But you're not the one keeping us in the air."

She laughed then. "Good point." She knew anyone under the age of thirty-five looked like a child to her, but this boy looked exceptionally young for someone traveling for work. Maybe old enough to work in a mailroom somewhere but hardly old enough for corporate retreats. "What is it you do?"

"I work at a think tank."

"Doing what?"

His face slipped into a wry smirk. "A little bit of everything. I'm an engineer in their Applied Sciences department." When he saw her skepticism, he'd added, "I'm good with building and deconstructing tech devices. I worked in bomb disposal in Afghanistan."

Her expression changed subtly. "Thank you for your service, young man."

Mac fidgeted awkwardly for a moment. That was a common enough thing for people to say, but it always made him feel sort of … funny. He hadn't joined the Army for thanks. He'd joined to help people. It also felt like a compliment and he was also not very good at accepting those. "I was glad to do it," he replied a little stiffly.

She studied him for a long moment, really taking his measure, trying to more accurately assess his age. "I lost my eldest boy over there," she began.

Mac's eyes widened a little, and his stomach dropped. That was always a hard conversation, even if you knew someone well, and certainly for a bit of airborne smalltalk. Fortunately, the appropriate automatic reply found it's way out of his mouth. "I'm so sorry for your loss."

She smiled softly at him. "Thank you, young man."

"I'm Mac," he said, extending a hand. Seemed to him like people who were sharing details like that about themselves ought to at least call each other by name.

She took his hand and shook it. "Ellen," she replied.

It was a name that always shook him just a little to hear. He swallowed hard, his mind going to all sorts of unwelcome places; like what his own mother's reaction would have been if she'd lived to see him join the Army.. He didn't say anything, but she read something of his momentary distress in his expressive eyes.

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mac."

He found his voice again, the ingrained lessons of politeness from his mother, his grandfather, the Army, and his own good heart serving him well. "Likewise, ma'am."

She squeezed his hand briefly before releasing it. "You've rather made my night. It's so nice to have met someone who went down the same path as my Ronald who got to come home to keep making the world a better place."

His smile this time was much more genuine and he felt something inside his mind go quiet, and relax. That was exactly what he was doing. The nervousness he'd been feeling mostly dissolved under her genuinely pleased expression.

"I'm certainly going to try."

0-0-0

Patricia Thornton opened the door to her executive apartment in the DXS owned building outside of Los Angeles. She already knew who'd rung the bell approximately fifty times in quick succession, but she allowed her face to convey mild surprise when she met the eyes of the man standing in the hallway looking like an angry bear with a sore paw and an empty stomach.

"Agent Dalton? To what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected … and unwelcome … intrusion?"

Jack strode right past her into her apartment. "You know damn well what, Patty. You said you'd loop me in about Mac goin' to school.!"

She eyed him coolly. "Perhaps I forgot."

Jack raised one eyebrow in response. It didn't pay to call bullshit out loud when you were facing down Patricia Thornton.

"Or perhaps I was following protocol."

Jack wasn't about to let that stand. " _Perhaps_ you were breaking your word." To Jack Wyatt Dalton that was a mortal sin.

The corner of her mouth twitched. "Would you like a drink, Jack?"

From her tone, Jack couldn't tell if she was amused or annoyed and he had no idea how to respond to the question. It's not like he'd come over here with a plan. "Um …" was all he came up with.

Her lips twitched a little more. "Bourbon, isn't it?" she prompted, crossing to the well-appointed sideboard in her living room, which Jack finally realized he was in the middle of.

"Yeah." He was frowning so deeply his forehead was starting to ache with it.

"Have a seat, Jack," she offered, indicating a hard grey leather sofa in front of a spotless glass and wrought iron coffee table. He obeyed, still trying to come up with words that matched her reaction to him barging in here.

Thornton adjusted her burgundy silk bathrobe, picked up both their drinks, and moved to sit across from him in the matching chair that Jack surmised was about as comfortable as the couch when it didn't give at all under her weight. She looked perfectly comfortable though as she took a sip of her whiskey, then placed the glass on one of the slate coasters from the middle of the table. She sat back, crossing her long legs gracefully and folding her hands to rest on her knee.

Jack downed the drink in one gulp, letting the burning down his throat cut through his anger, his worry, and focus him in the present moment, just like a long breath before a kill shot. He put the glass down without a coaster, more to see if she'd react to the breach of etiquette than anything. She didn't.

"Why'd you say you'd tell me when you were sending Mac if you weren't ever going to do it?"

"How do you know he's been sent? He was under strict orders not to call anyone."

 _Damn_. He hadn't thought that coming over here might get Mac in trouble. Hadn't thought much about anything at all other than what he knew of the school, and what he knew of Mac. He allowed a slow smile to spread over his face. "You and I both know if I've got a job to do I make sure it gets done even when people throw up roadblocks. My job is to protect that kid. Trust that I will always find a way to do that."

She appeared satisfied with his answer. "That's one of the reasons DXS recruited you." She waited a beat. "What makes you think he needs protecting at school? It's a learning experience. A challenging one certainly, but not dangerous."

The smile slipped as his forehead creased again. "You don't see a danger to Mac? After everything he's been through the last year? You don't think something like, oh say, the interrogation training might not just spin his head enough to get him to do something stupid and get hurt?"

He thought he heard her breath catch, but her voice came out totally level. "Needing to know that won't happen is likely why Oversight ordered me directly not to tell you. Oversight did say that Mac needed to prove he can handle himself adequately on his own, in spite of all that's happened, or he has no place at DXS, or anywhere else in the intelligence community."

Jack had already disagreed with Oversight a number of times since he'd started at DXS, but never more than now. Well, no. When Mac was missing and Oversight had tried to order Jack back stateside, he'd been career-sacrificing levels of pissed off. He supposed the fact that he'd actually managed to extract the kid from O'Neill's organization was the only reason he still had a job.

He kept his opinion of how Oversight had handled Afghanistan and any number of other missions Jack had been involved with since coming over from CIA to himself. "Maybe I should never have made Mac the offer from you guys. He could have found other ways to serve his country that didn't involve being treated like just an asset and not a person," he said through slightly clenched teeth.

Thornton studied him for almost a full minute and he felt himself starting to fidget like somebody half his age. She took his glass, got up, and poured him another drink. "I understand your position, Jack. I do. But orders are orders. You may be comfortable violating them, but I'm not. Oversight recruited me. I can't go against h … Oversight."

He got up and joined her at the sideboard, but didn't take the preferred drink. After a moment, she put in down. Her dark eyes softened just a fraction. Jack was sure of it. It was the same reticence he'd sensed when she'd tried to order him home when Mac had been a captive four months ago.

He hazarded an open ended statement, hoping for something that would preserve his ability to trust her and their organization as it related to Mac, regardless of what some faceless, heartless administrator thought. "I don't even know what to do right now, Patty." She didn't respond. "Am I supposed to pretend recruit evaluations will actually take up a month? Am I supposed to pretend I even give a damn about them when what I want to be doing is the job you told me was mine and watching MacGyver's back?"

This time a small smile quirked up both corners of her lips. "I suppose not. Deitrich could do those evaluations if you'd rather take on a job that could help you stay busy instead of worrying your way around the office. I need a courier and then for someone to do some surveillance on the recipient …"

"Patty, that's not gonna even …"

"In DC." Her eyes met his and there was a twinkle there he didn't think he'd ever seen before. "The job is in DC. The jet is already scheduled to leave with it at midnight. I could assign you. I know you know how to look after an important asset with the subtlety this mission would require."

Jack grinned, taking her meaning immediately. He picked up the glass and drained it again. "Yes, ma'am, I do. I appreciate this assignment more than you can know."

"Be careful, Jack. Don't get spotted. It would be bad for your career to screw this up."

"Oh, I'll take care of the priority mission, Patty. You can count on that."

She walked him to the door. "I know. That's why I pushed so hard for you to have the assignment."

Her expression made it clear she wasn't talking about a courier package.

"Thank you," he said sincerely as she closed the door.


	4. Chapter 4

Mac thought he'd done a pretty good job of looking politely interested while their petite but no less intimidating for her size Clandestine Services Training Officer lectured them about how hard this is going to be. Her sharp reprimand let him know he'd have to remember to handle his features more like he had in the Army. His expressions had gotten him into trouble at Basic at first, too.

"Am I boring you, Agent MacGyver?"

He squared his shoulders, sitting up a little straighter. "No, ma'am."

The fact that he didn't offer some defense irked her. He could tell. Her smirk also said she thought she was about to trip him up. "I prefer to be addressed more formally."

It took everything Mac had to not smirk in return. "I'm very sorry, Training Officer Glover. You're not boring me at all, ma'am."

He knew from the slight narrowing of her eyes she thought he'd forgotten or never bothered to listen to her name. He figured he was in for a drill instructor style dressing down when her spine stiffened. He was surprised at how quiet her voice was. "Good. I assume from reading your file that you have the capacity to repeat word for word everything I've said since this introduction started, verbatim."

"Verbatim means word for word, ma'am," was out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

He flinched just a little at the memory of telling his first DI that you couldn't give more than 110% on his first day of boot camp. And he definitely didn't have anyone like Carlos here to bail him out. He'd at least had the bus ride to the base to make friends back then. Here they'd all been brought by separate cars, given uniform polos and khakis to change into, had the rest of their belongings taken and locked up, and been led one by one to this classroom.

She just gave him a chilling smile. "Yes. It does. So why don't you give us the rundown, just so I can be sure you all understand?"

That was an invitation to screw up if ever he heard one. He let his face slip into the neutral expression he'd learned quickly in the Army. He kept his voice equally neutral.

"The Clandestine Services Training Program consists of three weeks of intensive training followed by a week long field assignment. You said we'll hate you and you don't care. That you're not here to be our friend or parent, that you're here to sharpen us all into tools the government can use. You also said that fifty percent or more of us will wash out. And that your job is to save our lives with this training so you expect us to follow orders without question." He felt one side of his mouth quirk up entirely against his will."Did I miss anything?"

She frowned. "No. Very good, Agent MacGyver. You've brought us up to your first training assignment." He nodded like that was fascinating information. Her attention returned to the full class. "You'll collect your cover identities and temporary addresses. You will go directly to your new home. There you will find surveillance equipment and a picture of your intended subject who will be in one of the apartments visible from one of your windows. You will make an electronic note of their activities every ten minutes for the next forty-eight hours. And yes, I can see from the looks on your faces that you're worried it means you won't get to sleep. Allow me to confirm your fears. You will not be sleeping for the next two days. At the end of the assignment your handler will come collect you to report for your obstacle course training and be assigned a partner for the remainder of your stay here. _If_ you pass Surveillance with detailed accurate notes."

There was a collective quiet murmur of apprehension around the room. Apparently Mac wasn't handling his face very well again though because Glover zeroed in on him again. "Does this sound like fun to you, MacGyver?"

"Not especially, Training Officer Glover, but I sincerely doubt anyone here was expecting good time, ma'am."

She gave a curt nod at his response. He wasn't being cocky, although someone with less training reading people might have read it as such. He was just very matter of fact. And he really wasn't intimidated.

"That's good. Because I expect it to be very much the opposite of one."

He just nodded, seemingly unaware of the slight shrug that accompanied his acknowledgment.

 _Damn it_ , she liked this kid. She didn't often take a shine to students, but DXS seemed to send her more of them than any other organization. She figured whoever was in n charge of those decisions must be truly brilliant.

She ran down the instructions for obtaining their covers and for their assignments one last time, then leveled one more diamond hard look at each of them in turn. "Dismissed."

As Mac filed out with the rest of the recruits she found herself hoping he would do well. And because she wa very dedicated, and very good at her job, she resolved to be as hard on him as possible. If he could make it through her school, she could count on him to take that air of unflappable readiness and serve his country long and well.

He caught the hard stare she was leveling at him as he headed out the door. His expression said he knew what she was thinking, he knew she'd put him through the fire. And he returned the intense look. She could all but hear him daring her, "Bring it on."

"Dude," another young man not too much older than Mac said as they traveled down the hallway. "I think Glover has it out for you already."

Mac shrugged. "They always pick somebody."

"Doesn't that make you at least a little nervous?"

Another shrug. "Not really. It did when I was on my way here but … I was a tech with EOD in Afghanistan, I've already worked a couple of pretty intense ops sort of by accident … And honestly I figure this can't be half as intense any of that. And if it is, if I wash out …" he trailed off for a minute and shrugged again. "This wasn't something I saw myself doing anyway. I'm here because of a job offer. Wouldn't break my heart to go back to fixing cars. Or I might check out CalTech if this doesn't work out." Mac grinned. He hadn't actually put that together before but it was nice to realize he had options. Improvisers like options.

After Mac got his papers, a small amount of cash in the wallet they issued him, and the organizationally issued phone he was to use to text his notes to his handler, he headed for the lobby. He stopped at the vending machine and used one of his few dollars to purchase a pack of gum. When he reached in the retrieve it, he also took out his Swiss Army knife, which he'd stashed there on his arrival. It disappeared into his front pocket along with the gum in one deft movement.

He headed out into the well lit parking lot in a light misting rain. He was glad he'd had the foresight to use a plastic baggie when he'd ditched his burner phone in the bushes near the sidewalk. He slipped the phone into his other pocket and headed away from the training facility. Other recruits were hailing cabs, sharing rides, or standing around like they weren't sure what to do.

Mac walked several blocks, changing direction several times until he was certain no one from the school had followed him. Then he caught a bus to the other side of town where his assignment was. Once the bus was in motion, he got out the phone and called Jack. When his friend picked up, there was a lot of noise in the background, and a PA system sounded off over it drowning out his partner's greeting.

"Hey, kid! You made it! And you've still got your phone! How'd you pull that off?"

"I'll tell you next chance I get, pal. I'm going to be incommunicado for the next 48 though, first assignment."

"They still do that? That's just dumb."

"Yeah, well, Glover has her eye on me so I better crush it unless I want to hit up Ainsley's for work gain."

"Glover's still there? She's the meanest b…"

"She's got a tough job, Jack. Maybe tougher than the one she's supposed to train is for," Mac observed thoughtfully. "Where are you? Sounds like Grand Central at noon."

"Airport. Patty's given me an assignment so I don't drive her nuts."

"You weren't already bugging her about me were you?"

"Maybe, but listen kid, we've talked about this. I'm your Overwatch and …"

"Yeah, yeah, old man." He chuckled. He wondered how long it had taken for jack to show up on Thornton's doorstep after he'd made his unauthorized call to his partner. "I better go. I just figured I'd better check in with my Overwatch and I wanted to gloat that I still have the phone."

"They took everything else though," Jack said mildly, remembering how much he'd personally hated that aspect of the school and feeling badly for the kid since Jack had a feeling Mac would stick it out for the full four weeks.

"I've got my knife."

That was about the smuggest Jack had ever heard the kid sound. "How'd you manage that one?"

"By already being a pretty good spook I guess. Tried a move Elliott told me about. Worked like a charm. This is my stop. I'll be in touch when I can."

Mac ended the call and tucked the phone away.

He'd definitely worried about this on the way here but know between his knife and the phone it was almost like he had Gramps and Jack both with him. If he'd learned nothing else when O'Neill had grabbed him, he knew that was about all he needed to get through anything.

He trudged up the stairs to his surveillance assignment. He should have napped on the plane. First order of business once he sent his first note was going to be making some coffee. Confident in his ability to succeed or not, it was going to be a long couple of days.


	5. Chapter 5

Mac walked into class after the surveillance assignment, passing the school's phone to the agent at the door with a pleasant, "Good morning, ma'am."

He didn't smirk when she looked surprised, but he definitely wanted to. Everyone here looked wrung out and exhausted. And if questioned … well, honestly he had been because he'd talked to Jack on the burner phone this morning … he'd have admitted to being pretty tired. But he wasn't also showerless, hungry, and in dirty clothes.

The other call he'd made this morning had been to Elliot Mathers, who'd laughed out loud when Mac told him what he was up to. Elliot had very obligingly dead dropped a credit card at a gas station several streets away from Mac's assignment.

When his subject left the apartment he had an hour and a half before he was ordered to report. Not enough time for a nap that would do anything but make him more tired. So, he went out, shook the tale from the school, picked up the card, and promptly gotten a motel room under the name on the card. He also bought a T-shirt and sweats at the little DC souvenir tourist trap on his way there with the $12 the school had put in the wallet they'd issued him.

He'd called for take-out, changed into the sweats, and put the school uniform in the dryer with some home dry cleaning kit stuff. Then he'd grabbed a long shower, bought a coffee at the same gas station, and eaten an obscene amount of Chinese food. After that he'd gotten dressed in his uniform which now looked freshly pressed, gotten another coffee, and walked back the few blocks to the pick up point.

Walking into that classroom looking fresh as a daisy was just as satisfying as he expected it to be. When Jack had asked how he was earlier, Mac had freely admitted he was tired. But they'd also laughed a little at the idea that the mock surveillance assignment was enough to put under someone with military experience. And ten minute intervals was plenty to catch little catnaps. Besides, Mac was used to going without sleep. He'd never been a great sleeper and since the incident with O'Neill he'd had almost epic insomnia.

Glover eyed him suspiciously the whole time she was lecturing the class about the results of the surveillance. Mac and another agent were singled out as having done an exceptional job with both the thoroughness of their reporting as well as being the only two not to miss a single check in.

When she dismissed them for the obstacle course, about which most of the recruits were moaning due to the inadequate breakfast their meager allowances bought as well as having to complete it on a lack of sleep, she held Mac and the other agent who was most successful back. "Congratulations on completing the Surveillance Readiness Evaluation flawlessly. You're the first in quite some time to manage it."

Both men nodded modestly. "Thank you, ma'am," Mac said, and left it at that.

"I'm pleased to have met the standard, ma'am," the other man said.

She looked at them for a long moment. "You both somehow lost your tail, too. Two nights ago, and this morning. On your way to your post and when you left it."

"We were followed?!" Mac asked with perfect indignation.

"You know, I did have kind of a creepy 'eyes on me' kind of feeling. I just walked it off. I thought being here was making me paranoid."

Mac agreed. "I just went for a walk to clear my head. I got the call to come here in the middle of a date. My head wasn't really in the game," he said, shuffling his feet just a little.

She narrowed her eyes at both of them. "Dismissed."

Once the were in the hall, the other man extended his hand. "Watts, Secret Service."

Mac shook the offered hand. "MacGyver, DXS."

The kept walking toward the locker room. "Never heard of it."

Mac grinned as he opened his assigned locker and pulled out the PT gear. "I think that's kind of the point."

"You were pretty smooth back there with Glover. Especially for a recruit," Watts observed. "How old are you anyway."

Mac grinned and returned with his answer and a Jack Dalton worthy movie quote. "I'm twenty three. But it's not the years, it's the miles, I guess. I was in EOD before this."

"That explains a lot. And I'm only twenty eight myself. Air Force. I'm a pilot. I figure next to SERE school this shit ought to be a piece of cake."

"Pretty much," Mac grinned.

"Does Army EOD do SERE now?"

"Not necessarily. But my training officer was very good. Made sure we knew what we needed to, regardless."

Something passed over Mac's face then that discouraged Watts from questioning him further. "Good luck out there today," he offered, bending to tie his sneakers.

"You too, man," Mac said with a very genuine encouraging smile. "Piece of cake, right?"

And as it turned out, it mostly was.

Mac did hesitate at the intimidating "Confidence Tower". He and Watts had sort of naturally hung together on the course and Watts noticed. "You alright, dude?"

"Yeah," Mac said with forced levelness. "Not a big fan of heights." But he started climbing anyway. "Damned if I let it ruin my time though."

Watts grinned and grabbed the next rope.

Mac paused again at the top. The highest confidence towers troops faced in the Army was about 45 feet, and damned if that didn't about stop his heart. This one had to be about sixty feet up. _Get it together, Angus_ , he grumbled well under his breath. _This is not worse than that time you had to repel down half the biggest damn mountain in Afghanistan with Jack._

He nearly grinned at the memory. Jack had slapped him on the back and said it was probably a record, how fast they'd come down. Mac had refrained from saying he'd been highly motivated to get his ass back on the ground. He thought Jack could tell though.

He was ahead of Watts, who seemed to be struggling a little to get up over the top. Mac reached a hand down to haul him the rest of the way onto the narrow platform at the top. "Okay?" Mac asked, still a little out of breath from the climb.

"Mmmm. Hurt my shoulder in a crash back a few years ago in Iraq. Still stiffens up sometimes."

"Let's go down together, just in case then."

Watts nodded. "Thanks, man."

They made it to the ground without incident. Mac had another bad moment during the live fire portion of the course. For a second or two he was right back in a war zone, but Watts saying his name brought him back to the present in less than a second. Both of them finished in the top five.

After the group was offered first aid for those who needed it, then showered, changed into fresh uniforms, and finally got some food (which Mac could have compared to some of the less appetizing MREs he'd experienced), they were called back to the classroom and a rather severe looking Glover.

"While you were out, disappointing your sending agencies on the obstacle course, some of our team tossed your apartments for contraband. Unfortunately, four of you will be going home."

Mac had a brief moment of panic, but he quickly did a mental inventory of his stuff and he was positive that anything of importance was in his off the grid motel room. As four agents stepped up beside recruit desks Mac relaxed more fully. All of the washing out recruits knew better than to make a scene and filed out quietly.

Glover nodded as the last agent closed the door.

"Since none of you are likely to retain anything more at this point in the day, and it's nearly when civilized people head home for dinner, we'll break for now. You'll be messaged a time to report to the pick up point on the phones you'll collect on your way out. More cash will be distributed for you to feed yourselves with. Spend your evening however you like. Dismissed."

As they left for the night, Mac caught the satisfied smirk on Glover's face. When they stepped outside, Watts joined him on the sidewalk. "Wanna go grab a beer?"

Mac shook his head. "Did you see her face?" Watts shook his head. "Something's going down tonight or very early tomorrow. I'm gonna get as much chow as I can force myself to eat and try to grab a nap."

"I somehow don't think the ten bucks they gave us is gonna get you very far in DC as far as chow goes, MacGyver."

Mac grinned. "Call me Mac."

He glanced around. He was pretty sure he'd just made his tail but he'd need a couple more blocks to be certain. He grinned again.

"I think you'd be surprised."


	6. Chapter 6

The first couple of weeks at school had been sort of entertaining. Staying one step ahead of Glover and her minions, all while sneaking in phone calls with Jack had been almost fun. He'd even managed to kind of have dinner with Jack one night.

It had been at a bar. They hadn't even really made eye contact. But they'd checked in. Jack had needed some visual reassurance of his partner's well being. There had been a ...very minor, according to Mac … small explosion at the school which had disrupted an interrogation training where the recruits in question had been deprived of sleep and food for over twenty-four hours.

Mac had just nodded at the bartender who'd just set down a beer and his basket of onion rings and without looking the two stools down at Jack said, "You worry too much. I wasn't involved. I was in class."

"Okay," Jack had snickered. He wondered why Mac would have butted into someone else's training, but maybe knowing the tactics that were being applied at the school was enough.

Mac had just taken a swig of his beer. He wasn't going to admit to blowing the air conditioning unit even to Jack. But Watts was going to wash out if someone didn't help him out. He'd caught a bad cold in the second week of training and was about dead on his feet. Mac knew the guy had what it took to do the job. He didn't think it was very fair that Glover had cherry picked him out of class for Interrogation Training just because she knew he was sick. And, Mac had to admit, not having a partner to look out for had been weird.

Once Mac fell into a comfortable routine, he started to get bored. And as Jack would tell anyone, a bored Mac … did things like blow up air conditioning units to help people he barely knew. His boredom was marked by the instructors, despite his best efforts. It was driving Glover to distraction.

"Agent MacGyver!" she snapped, pulling him out of a pleasant day dream about being snowed in up in Harry's cabin with a certain gorgeous analyst, who Jack informed him had called five times to ask how Mac was, since she was too smart to believe Thornton just happened to send Jack to DC at the same time Mac was at the academy.

Mac made eye contact. "Yes, ma'am?"

"Am I boring you?"

Mac suppressed the eye roll that wanted to happen automatically. "No disrespect, ma'am, but I feel like we've had this conversation before."

"I beg your pardon?" She looked furious.

"First day, ma'am. You thought I wasn't paying attention. I quoted your lecture … We can do it again if you want, but …"

"Fine. You can memorize my words," she interrupted. "If you want a pass for staring out the window and mutilating all my paper clips, I'm going to need you to do more than play parrot."

"What is it you'd like from me, ma'am?" He was pleased that he didn't sound as annoyed as he felt. He was so over this whole thing.

"Add something to the topic. Give me whatever you've got."

She opened her hands, inviting him to try.

"Well, most of the various operatives in the room aren't going to be doing much in the way of evidence gathering or collection. So if we've got the 'don't destroy evidence' procedures down we're probably good. Right?"

She frowned. "I suppose so. However, we feel here that a complete understanding of all factors involved in the investigations you may find yourselves involved in benefit your agencies and your country," she replied haughtily.

"Again, no disrespect ma'am, but most of what the lecture portion of the class has covered could be learned from binge watching old episodes of CSI."

She raised an eyebrow.

"My grandfather was a big fan, ma'am."

She just nodded for him to go on, smirking slightly since it seemed he was going to dig himself into a hole she could exploit to show him the error of his ways.

"Anyways … I _was_ paying attention. I was just thinking that in the field, knowing the underlying principles of these methods would better equip operatives to handle unexpected situations."

"Go on."

Mac shrugged. "Take blood detection for example. You were just talking about luminol. It's great as an indicator, sure. But we're not likely to be carrying spray bottles of it around with us. We could realistically carry phenolphthalein powder though if we think it likely we'll need to look for trace blood. Since if you're in a private residence or public building, odds are you could find some hydrogen peroxide and alcohol."

"To what end?"

"So you could make a phenolphthalein solution to perform the Kastle-Meyer presumptive test for blood. More practical than luminol since you wouldn't need a special container or light or anything. You could just pick things up at the scene. And you wouldn't need much powder on hand to do it"

She smiled in a way that made him intensely uncomfortable. "Fascinating. And do you also have a way to just _wing it_ taking fingerprints?"

He sighed. That look said he should have kept his mouth shut. "I mean, yeah, if you really want me to …"

"Oh, I wouldn't miss it."

Another shrug. "There's some electrostatic methods that you could employ ... Or ... Graphite shavings from a pencil would work. Plaster dust. You need fine particles that stick to oils but you don't want the particles so fine that they'll obscure detail. Like cornstarch. Although that's good if you run into other kinds of trouble," he said thoughtfully.

"Cornstarch? Thickening a sauce isn't exactly a priority in the field."

The smile had gotten tighter. She liked him. But only to a point. Now that school had gone in a bit, she was starting to think he was the kind of cocky that could get him and others killed. His shoot from the hip style had him acing all the benchmarks they set, but she still didn't like it. The protocols and regulations people like her lived by were there for a reason.

"It's an excellent improvised explosive if you're in a pinch, ma'am."

"Have you ever …"

"Yes, ma'am. I told you I got kicked out of the Boy Scouts, right?"

Light laughter rippled around the room. "Alright. I believe that's enough improvising for one forensics class. Test in the morning. Report for physical training for the rest of the afternoon. Walters and Watts, I need to speak with you before you go. The rest of you, dismissed."

Mac glanced at her as he filed out the door with the rest of his dwindling class. She was looking right at him. He gave her a pleasant smile and then just headed to the locker room, changed, and went out to the yard where he was immediately set to run laps. He asked how many and the instructor just smirked. "Till I tell you to stop, Agent."

Mac just nodded agreeably. "Yes, sir." He headed right for the track.

From his position in the wooded area behind the school, Jack watched with a deepening frown. The instructor was pushing Mac harder than anyone else and every time the kid made a move for a water break, he got yelled at to take on something else. To Jack, based on what he'd seen of the school, that meant Mac was about to be snapped up for interrogation resistance exercises.

That worried him. He'd tried to talk to Mac about it before he'd gotten the call to report here, but Mac had blown it off. Not in a dismissive way, but in an honest he didn't want to way. He'd just said, "I don't want to talk about what happened Jack. It's over. Literally the worst thing they're allowed to do at school is withhold food or sleep, according to Nikki. I hardly sleep anyway, and you know I forget to eat all the time. I'm fine with it."

Jack didn't think he was fine at all. O'Neill had really messed with Mac's head, say nothing about his physical well-being. Jack figured the interrogation here _would_ be pretty mild by comparison. But that didn't mean it wouldn't trigger memories, flashbacks even.

After the group headed inside Jack moved off, putting on sunglasses and the Ravens sweatshirt he'd bought to blend in. It felt like a bit of betrayal to the Cowboys to be wearing it, but he saw at least three other people out jogging nearby who looked almost identical to him so he thought it had been a good choice. Just another jogger out for an after work run.

When he stepped up next to Mac in the convenience store several blocks away from the school, Mac wasn't looking at him. He was stuffing a protein bar in his mouth and chasing it with orange Gatorade. "Hey, kid," he said as he leaned into the cooler and grabbed himself a Gatorade like he really wanted it. "Tough day at the office?"

Mac reached for another bar, nodding at the clerk who he'd clearly arranged to pay on his way out for whatever he consumed. Around the peanut butter and chocolate Mac said, "I'm preparing for tonight. They're gonna pick me up, I'm pretty damn sure, and I want to be in a calorie surplus and well hydrated."

Jack grinned. "How do you know?"

"Glover set Watts and Walters to tail me. They're good and since we're in the same building I almost wouldn't have known when I started walking, but I spotted them and said hey to Watts. We're pretty friendly. He wouldn't look me in the eye. They're getting coffee across the street. They don't think I know it."

"Maybe that's just their homework." He didn't believe it but it was a possibility.

"Glover was eyeballing me all day too. And Timmons kicked my ass all over the training yard." Mac started on another Gatorade. "Wouldn't let me grab water the whole time. And then when we got back inside, the cooler was supposedly busted. At least I got a shower. But it's gotta be tonight. It's just how that sort of thing's been going." Another power bar was unwrapped and inhaled. "Ugh. I hate overeating."

Jack nodded, picking up a candy bar for himself and stepping toward the soda cooler like they were just two random strangers and were wrapping up their casual cooler conversation. "I think you're right, kid."

"Where have you been watching from, you stalker?" he teased good naturedly. "I've had my eye out but haven't seen you."

"Tricks of the trade, kid," Jack said with another grin. He wanted to ask Mac again if he thought he was going to be alright, but thought better of it. He didn't want to undermine Mac's confidence. "Get a nap when you get back to your room," he advised instead.

Mac nodded. "I'm sure as Hell gonna try." He grabbed a few more portable high calorie snack foods, several more large Gatorades, settled up with the clerk, and headed out of the store without a backward glance.

Jack watched him go, then watched first Walters, then Watts, come out of the coffee shop, and head in the same direction.

"Good luck, kid," he said under his breath.

Then he paid for his Snickers bar and the Pepsi he'd settled on, and went to take up his post near Mac's assigned living quarters. He needed to call Patty back about a lead in the O'Neill case she'd texted him about.

Jack knew something was going down in Mac's building later that evening when all the lights went out at once, just as they had on several other occasions when students were getting picked up for the same purpose. He was glad he'd seen the men Mac had pointed out as classmates, or he might have been worried.

This was just a training exercise. It would be awful, Jack was sure, but they wouldn't really hurt the kid. In fact, jack knew interrogation training came with its own medic, and they'd make sure the kid was okay from the lack of sleep and sustenance he was about to endure, before they'd ever let him off campus.

And that was reassuring. Because Patty's intel said that O'Neill was on the move, back in the States, and planning something big.

She also said that he was gunning for both he and Mac after what they'd done to his operation in Afghanistan.

Mac had a brief moment of panic when he was hauled out of bed from a sound sleep, but Watts voice reassured him. "Sorry, man. This is gonna suck."

Mac didn't answer. If the training session had begun, he wasn't going to say anything for the next forty-eight hours, he promised himself.

That turned out to be a lot more difficult than he thought.


	7. Chapter 7

Mac leaned his head back and looked at the ceiling, puffing out a long, exhausted breath.

The first twenty-four hours had simply been him alone in a holding cell. It had been clean. And there'd been a working sink and toilet. The water from the sink had even been cold, so, while he'd had no cup, he'd been able to drink as much as he wanted with cupped hands. He hadn't been allowed any sleep, of course. But he'd been expecting that.

For a lot of people, all the time alone would have been part of the torment. For Mac, it was like a safe familiar space in which to collect himself for what was coming. Mac often found other people difficult, overwhelming, chaotic. Being alone, even in less than pleasant circumstances, was pleasant by comparison.

When his brain started to try to throw out the lonely hours in O'Neill's camp in Afghanistan as a means of occupying itself he just shut it down with something he'd been doing since he was a kid; listing the elements in descending order and imagining their reactions with their periodic opposites.

Now, he'd been in the active interrogation phase for probably around fourteen hours. He was exhausted, hungry (and worse thirsty), and (maybe worst of all) bored. The periodic table had lost its charm several hours ago, right around the same time his hands and feet had started going numb from being cuffed and shackled to the table in the stark interrogation room.

 _Ten hours to go_ , he reminded himself. _Give or take._ Watts had very subtly cued him in to the time on a couple of occasions. It had been a while and he knew his sense of time was skewed by fatigue and low-level dehydration. But he still had a pretty clear sense of where in the day it was. Then he sneezed.

He hoped fervently it was just the dry air in here and not that he was catching the cold that was making its rounds among the stretched-too-thin recruits. Mac looked back at his interrogators and Watts raised an eyebrow at him. "Get you a water?" he offered. It had the expected edge. Watts has no idea Mac had saved his ass when the shoe was on the other foot, and Mac had no intention of telling him.

"I'm all set, thanks," Mac said comfortably.

"You don't look so hot," Walters observed.

Mac shrugged. _Who would?_ he thought, but didn't say. Not talking at all had started to make him overly focused on the code word and he'd begun to worry it would just slip out. Now he was occasionally offering up innocuous phrases, more to keep himself grounded than anything else.

"You're really close now," Watts observed and Walters threw him a glare. Mac wondered if he'd lost track of time and was nearer the release mark than he'd thought. Then he wondered if that was a ploy the two men had worked out to get him to cough up the code word. He was pretty sure the latter was the case when he saw the look they exchanged.

"Time is relative," Mac finally replied. Then his exhausted brain rummaged around for something to entertain itself with. "In fact, it might not even matter at all."

Walters raised an eyebrow and took a drink of his coffee, a bite of the sandwich he'd brought in hoping to drive his subject to distraction with thoughts of food. "Huh?"

Mac shifted in the chair, trying to get even marginally more comfortable, but instead sending shooting pains of inactivity down his legs and up his back. He kept his affable expression in place though. Compared to what he'd been though, this was nothing, less than an annoyance even. "Ever hear of the Simulation Hypothesis?"

Blank looks said no. Mac adopted the tone he knew drive Jack and Bozer both crazy, especially when they'd been hoping to get a rise out of him.

"Variations of the Simulation Hypothesis have existed since antiquity in firms like The Butterfly Dream, but Nick Bostrum has popularized the modern iteration of it over about the last decade or so. Even Stephen Hawking finds the idea intriguing, but more on probabilistic terms than philosophical ones."

Mac launched into a complicated, math-heavy, explanation. After a while, his interrogators stopped interrupting with questions, as that seemed to send him even further down the rabbit hole of facts, figures, and philosophies. What it also unfortunately did was point out just exactly how dry his mouth was, too.

He cursed under his breath the next time Watts offered him a water and his first impulse had been just to say yes. He hadn't really wanted this damned job anyway. He'd liked working at Ainsley's. And there hadn't been any new actionable intel on O'Neill in months. He hurt all over from sitting. His stomach now felt by turns hot and cold from lack of food. The thirst though. That was the worst. Because it was familiar. It tasted like Afghanistan, like being back in that camp. One word was starting to seem a small price to pay to get the hell out of here.

He'd very nearly opened his mouth to say so, too. Then he saw them exchange another look, this one almost smug. _Screw it,_ he thought. _I've lasted this long. Might as well ruin their day lasting a little bit longer._

So instead of saying anything else, he clammed up again. He'd talked himself out for now, and he was tired of them throwing every little detail they'd need able to glean from his life from kindergarten on up into his face whenever he paused. He needed a new mental distraction.

Jack had been telling him for a couple of years now that maybe more people would like his beloved periodic table song if it went to a better tune than some crappy old timey musical. Mac had given up trying to convince Jack that Gilbert & Sullivan wasn't crappy a good while back. But he'd also started trying to match the lyrics to something Jack would deem acceptable for a long while, too. He'd made some progress with _Thunderstruck_ while he'd been O'Neill's prisoner, but it always seemed to fall apart at the chorus. Mac took up the effort again now, letting his mental music drown out the voices of his classmates.

When Glover called an end to the exercise an indeterminate amount of time later, Mac knew two things. One, he wasn't going to get the elements to play nice with AC/DC. And two, even if he didn't want to let them, he was going to have to accept help from the two security people she brought in with her. His legs were not going to take him as far as the infirmary until some circulation returned to them.

Late that evening, instead of being turned loose to make his way there on his own, Mac was escorted back to his apartment by two security personnel from the school, told he had twenty-four hours all to himself, and then left at his door.

He limped inside, legs still stiff, got a Gatorade out of the fridge, thrilled he'd left an extra there, downed it in several long gulps, and flopped onto the couch with an arm thrown over his face in the dark living room, without so much as unlacing his boots. After a minute he said, "Hey, Jack."

A soft chuckle. "How'd you know I was here?"

Mac smiled into the crook of his arm. "Where else would you be, Sarge?"

"Fair enough. Ain't you gonna ask me if I'm sure no one from the school saw me get in here."

Mac shook his head. "You're too good for that."

"How you doing? And I'm guessing 'successful' at least enters into the answer since you're not packing for an early flight home."

Mac uncovered his face and rolled onto his side in the direction of Jack's voice. "Yeah, an whooboy did I pissoff Glover when she came to cut me loose."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Told her I couldn't remember the word otherwise I'd have cracked hours ago."

"Are you serious?" Jack asked. Mac heard him sit forward on the worn out springs of … the chair; that was the sound of the easy chair that was diagonal to where he was currently stretched out.

Mac laughed a little. "When have you ever known me to forget anything, old man?"

"I didn't mean that. I meant you pokin' that particular she-bear, ya big dumb genius."

"Probably not my best idea, but damned if it wasn't worth the look on her face." Mac sighed. He wanted another drink, but he didn't think his legs especially wanted to carry him as far as the refrigerator. When Jack asked what was wrong, Mac frowned. He hadn't meant to be noisy enough to tip anyone off to his current less-than-okayness. When he realized saying what he was thinking out loud would probably mean he didn't have to make himself move, he sighed, and did so.

Jack didn't say anything at first, just went and got Mac the last sports drink from the fridge, thinking that he should have thought ahead and restocked the kid's supply. When he got back to the darkened living room, Mac was sitting up on the couch, massaging his legs. Jack knew his hands were stiff, too, so he opened it before passing it to him. "Thanks, man," Mac said gratefully, taking the drink and taking a long swallow.

"You want me to go out and get you some more?" Jack offered.

"Nah, I'm alright. The thirst is more psychological at this point. I got fluids in the infirmary."

"That sucks."

"Yeah, nothing so disheartening in that environment as someone already bitching about your veins before they've made a single attempt." Mac chuckled and added, "And suddenly you're glad you washed out."

"It is a strangely happy thought yeah." He paused. "So another, what, four days to go now?"

Mac nodded, "Mmmmhmmm," around his last swallows of Gatorade. "Which means there's almost no time between me and the final. Fatiguewise I'm going to be at a little bit of a disadvantage, but I'm pretty confident." He paused. "But since I know there has to be more to you showing up than just checking on me, since it's a pretty big risk, I figure you've got something else on your mind."

Jack swallowed hard. Sometimes that kid's brain was too sharp for Jack's own good. "O'Neill," he began.

"I figured," Mac said. Although until he'd caught the vague smell of Jack's cologne in the apartment no such thing had even remotely crossed his mind.

"Patty says he's back stateside. And planning something big, and …" Jack hesitated. Training was already a lot of pressure.

"And we're on his shitlist?" Mac finished for him, with a sigh.

"Well, yeah, that about covers it," Jack agreed.

"So … Patty actually sent me tonight. The higher ups don't know it, but she said she isn't willing to risk you getting grabbed by O'Neill's people again, no matter what the board thinks. School or no school, I've got your six, kid. We'll get read in to what's up as soon as we're back in LA. And she may want to send us out of town for a little, just as a precaution she can hide from Oversight by calling it an assignment."

Mac was thoughtful. Jack heard him draw a long slow breath, then let it out the same way. "Thanks," was what he finally came up with. "I'm gonna get some sleep, okay?"

"You've earned it, kid," Jack agreed. He watched Mac's dark shape move down the hall to the bedroom. He listened to the door close, then saw the sliver of light flare to life at the bottom. Jack would have been surprised if the light hadn't come on. Mac had developed a habit of almost always sleeping with a light on over the last several months.

For his own part, and maybe because of his profession, jack found himself comfortable in the dark right now; keeping watch. He moved silently through it and set the alarm he'd fashioned for the door that he thought Mac would certainly approve of when he showed it to him. Then he settled in for the thin rest of someone on light guard duty. He never really went to sleep, just closed his eyes and prepared his mind for whatever might next come their way.

When Mac was up with terrible dreams of Afghanistan a few hours later, Jack was the one to shake him awake.


	8. Chapter 8

Class was wrapping up. People were turning in their notes for review. And Glover was congratulating everyone who managed to be present on a job well done. She gave the room what amounted to a beaming smile from her. "I'll see you all at our graduation ceremony before you depart for home tomorrow night."

Mac's eyes hardened.

Tonight was the night.

Mac plastered on a smile, just like he thought he was actually done as he handed his notebook to Glover. "Well done Agent MacGyver. You did an exceptional job here."

He thought about calling her on it. Instead of doing so directly, he just gave a curt nod. "I'm satisfied with my performance, ma'am." He paused. "So far."

Her eyes narrowed just slightly, but she didn't respond. He headed to the door, ready to turn in his uniform and get back his street clothes. Almost as soon as he got into the hall outside, Watts fell into step beside him.. "Free at last, huh?"

Mac eyeballed him with just a hint of suspicion. "You serious?"

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"The final."

"I had mine two nights ago. You haven't ..?"

Mac shook his head. There was something just slightly off about Watts' tone. "Nope." He took his bag of personal items from the attendant. "Thanks," he said and headed straight to the locker room.

He knew without a doubt the next 24 hours were going to suck pretty much beyond the telling of it and if he had to put up with it, he wanted his jacket. Well, it had been his grandfather's jacket. But it was his now. And something about wearing it was a little like carrying his Swiss Army knife. It felt safe.

Watts tried again and this time Mac was certain the guy was assigned to participate in his final. "I've heard the full final is random. Like not everybody has to do it if their scores are strong. Newbury didn't and she's actually missing graduation to go take an assignment, so she's definitely free and clear."

Mac wasn't buying it. _Of course the one other student I actually like is assigned to make my life difficult_ , he thought somewhat bitterly. _No wonder I have trust issues._

"Maybe I just got lucky then," was what he said out loud.

"You would," Watts said with wry amusement. "Glover likes you."

"If you say so," Mac said with the expected eyeroll.

"You wanna go get a beer? Maybe celebrate making it out of here with that completion certificate we need?"

 _Okay, here we go._ "Yeah, maybe. Kinda want to go grab a shower first. Where were you thinking?"

"We could just head right over to Finn's. I'm ready to blow off some steam. Somebody said there's live music over there tonight. It would be pretty easy to just go home and get cleaned up to crash after we eat and whatever.."

The pub near where they'd all been staying was the default watering hole for all the members of the class, for the very reason Watts just stated. But to Mac, it stunk on ice. Watts was trying to keep eyes on him and get him to that pub, he was sure of it. He forced an affable expression. "I'll meet you there in a few. I really need a hot shower." Watts was about to say something else, offer another reason to go right to the pub. Mac didn't give him a chance. "I'm getting a killer headache from all the sitting. If I don't get on top of it, I'll be sorry later."

"Migraines?" Watts asked with genuine sympathy.

Mac shrugged. "If I don't watch my step. Gimme a hour?"

"Sure, meet you there," he said.

Mac headed out the double doors of the school ahead of Watts and he could feel the other man's eyes on his back. He would have talked himself into thinking he was being paranoid in the past, but his experience with O'Neill this last year told him he wasn't paranoid enough.

He slipped the tail that he'd picked up after a block almost without thinking at this point. He picked up his phone and, a half a block over, his knife. Then he picked a new route and started toward his hidden motel room. He stopped and sat in a park bench and thoroughly went over all his seams and pockets for the second time, the first having been in the locker room, to make sure he was clean of listening or tracking devices. He knew that's how they'd nabbed Sikorsky on Monday during his final. Once he was satisfied, he made the turn onto the last block before the motel. On the way, he got Jack on the phone.

"So," his partner said as a greeting. "Shit's about to get real, huh?"

"It's gotta be tonight. No way am I one of the one's off the hook. Besides, Watts is acting weird. Or at least … I don't know …"

"You got a sense that somethin's stirrin' in the weeds. I gotcha. Anything I can do, kid?"

"You're not supposed to help me, you know."

"Now I'm not sure that's necessarily in the rules. Lots of people pull in their own resources to pass the final. They might not own up to it. But they do. And I am by God one of your resources."

"I appreciate it, Jack, but it …"

"If you were really all that worried about the rules, you wouldn't have a phone, or your knife, or that motel room and credit card either. The rules are stupid anyway."

Mac fumbled with the key to his room, which he'd picked up from where he'd hidden it in the hedgerow around the corner. The ease with which Jack offered and he'd accepted the idea of help slowing him down for a minute. He'd been so used to being on his own … Jack shook that up though, and it seemed he had more people, more support in his life than he ever had. And it wasn't just Jack, or even because of Jack, but he thought Jack maybe deserved the credit for getting him to change his thinking enough to see it. "If it'll make you feel better to keep an eye on things, I'm supposed to meet Watts and some of the others at Finn's in about forty minutes."

"I'll stay out of the way, but I'll be around."

"Thanks, man. I appreciate it. I'm edgy as hell and it's got nothing to do with school." Mac closed the door behind him and turned on the shower full blast on hot, letting it steam up the room. "Any more news on O'Neill?" he asked, getting at the heart of what was really troubling him.

"Patty's bein' real tight lipped all of a sudden," Jack offered. "Which I think means something's gonna go down. And soon. She did say she may have an assignment for us that would be appropriate for your probationary month."

Mac rolled his eyes as he started unlacing his shoes. A month of probation as an agent after all the hoops he'd already jumped through just pissed him off. But he knew it was protocol and he also knew how Thornton felt about protocol. She'd bent it to the point of breaking for him already. "That'll be good," was what he said instead.

"Some joint op with some guys from the CIA."

"Aw, man," he groaned. His introduction to CIA here had been with two of his more difficult classmates. "CIA sucks."

"Dude, I was at CIA not too long ago," Jack said with only partially mock-indignation.

"Is that where you started snoring?" Mac laughed. "Look, I gotta go. I'm gonna get cleaned up and get my head on straight before I go meet Watts."

"Alright, kid. Be careful. It's a training exercise but I've seen these guys get a little overzealous the last few weeks. And trust your gut. Watts nearly blew his final, best as I could tell. Nailing you might be what he needs to pass."

"What have you been stalking the whole school?"

Jack made no apologies. "Pretty much, yeah. Watch your six."

"Copy that, pal."

Mac ended the call, tossed the phone on the bed and enjoyed a much longer shower than he'd necessarily intended. He was running a little later than he intended when he got to the bar. He knew he'd been right about the evening when he saw the way Watts was craning his neck at the door when he walked it.

The woman sitting across from Watts looked familiar too, and Mac was fairly certain she was one of the "cleaning people" from his temporary school-assigned housing. She looked different, even her hair color, but she had one bright green speck in her otherwise light brown eyes that was so distinctive he knew it had to be the same woman. He assumed she was one of the instructors from the school.

"Hey, guys," he greeted casually. He gave the woman his best new acquaintance smile. "I'm Mac."

"Nice to meet you Mac!" she replied in a cheerleader perky voice. "I'm Wanda. Are you a friend of Avery's?"

"Well, I think we're getting there. I'm in town for a conference so we only met recently."

"What sort of conference?" she asked pointedly.

Not certain what story she might be expecting or what she and Watts might be cooking up to trip him up, Mac just grinned. "The kind that's over! Getting a flight out tomorrow night after we finish tying up loose ends. I can't wait to sleep in my own bed again."

"Man, I hear that," Watts agreed, sounding like he really meant it. He rose, "We're Dey here and I can't get the server's attention. Get you a beer?"

Mac didn't see a good way to refuse. "Yeah, that'd be great. I'm probably only gonna be good for one though. I'm beat."

"Ah, we'll loosen you up. You can sleep in the plane tomorrow."

"Let's just start with the beer before we turn this into the kind of party I used to skip when I was in college."

"Alright," he laughed. "Hungry?"

"Nah, I'm all set, but thanks."

'Wanda' started asking him a stream of overly personal rapid fire questions that made him feel a little like he'd wandered into one of the speed dating evenings Bozer had described a few times. Mac wasn't someone who naturally talked much about himself even when he was totally at ease and trusted whoever was asking. Now he was just trying to keep her talking in a way that didn't feel forced, while also keeping an eye on Watts.

When his classmate arrived back at the table with their drinks, Mac felt the phone in his pocket buzz with a text. Since he couldn't exactly take it out and check it in front of them, he took a couple of sips of the nondescript beer and then excused himself to the men's room as soon as it seemed reasonable.

He waited until he was in a stall to even take it out of his pocket. Predictably, the text was from Jack. "He slipped something in your beer."

"Goddamnit," Mac swore out loud. He'd suspected that's what was going to happen, but Wanda had apparently distracted him enough with her chatter that he'd missed catching Watts in the act. "He texted back. "I already took a couple drinks. What do you think it was?"

Mac's phone rang. "Hey."

"Taste like anything? Or smell?"

"It's shitty beer. Can't tell."

"Feel anything?"

"No."

Jack was quiet. "Well with you I guess it don't mean much. But a couple sips might not do anything anyway."

"Yeah." Being drugged was not okay with him. Being drugged by the good guys was sort of mentally unacceptable, despite having prepared for it. "What would be usual?"

"Chloral hydrate maybe. More likely some kind of benzo though. Easier to get, can be short acting. Better for interrogation, too."

"I'm gonna glass right over the part where you know that right off hand. I don't know about the classic knockout drops, but I know I'm a little resistant to sedatives. Point in my favor I guess."

There was a long silent pause.

"What do you want to do, kid?"

Jack was clearly asking if he wanted to be pulled out. He'd spoken in front of Thornton about doing so if he deemed Mac's training as crossing Aline at any point after what had gone down with the Mazari. Mac wasn't about to pull out of this now. Not with victory on his own merits so close. "I'm staying in. I think I have an idea."

A loud sigh. "Alright, kid. I'm with you though."

"Where are you anyway?"

"Right at the bar. You mean you didn't see me? Amateur."

"Screw you," Mac laughed. "Catch you later." He ended the call.

Jack saw him exit the restroom a moment later.

He watched Mac walk casually back to the table and down the entire beer.

Finally he caught sight of Jack, albeit a disguised Jack, in the mirror over the bar. The cocky grin he tipped his partner said he believed he had the situation completely under control.

Knowing him, he probably did.


	9. Chapter 9

Whatever Watts has put into the first beer didn't really effect Mac much. He felt buzzed, which was more than he'd expect from the standard sized domestic, but nothing more. So it was definitely a sedative. Probably something from the benzodiazepine family since he didn't seem to metabolize those in a typical way, much to the consternation of the surgical team who'd fixed up his shoulder after O'Neill's people had screwed it up.

It was getting under Watts's skin, Wanda's too. He could tell. Mac just smiled and shook his head when Watts headed to the bar, saying he was going to grab them another round. "Thanks, man, but I'm beat. This headache that's trying to come on feels like one of the go to bed or you'll be sorry later kinds. I'm gonna take off."

"Don't do that. Alone in those shitty apartments is no way to celebrate graduation! I've got some aspirin in my jacket." He started fishing around in his pockets.

"I already took something, but thanks." _Like I'd take anything that came of if Watts's pockets even if the headache was real._ "I'll see you at graduation." He rose, enjoying the look the pair across from him exchanged just a little. "It was nice to meet you Wanda." Then he smirked. "Maybe I'll see you before I leave when you come in to _clean_."

With that, he left, pulling on his jacket as he headed toward the door. The cool night air felt unbelievably good on his face and he realized that whatever they'd put in his beer with might be causing him to flush. That shored up his idea that it was some kind of sedative since mixing them with alcohol intensified the effects of both substances.

Someone bumped into his shoulder on their way into the bar and just that slight jostling made the world spin for a second. The sidewalk seemed swamped with people, all determined to plow him over. _Okay, so maybe it is effecting me. Just slower than they were hoping for._

His first impulse was to hail a cab, but something told him Glover and her testing team might be ready for that contingency. If it were him running the show, he'd have agents in place as drivers to snap him up the second he give the primaries the slip.

He looked around, trying to think straight and come up with another option. It occurred to him that he could call Jack on his burner phone and tell him what was up. Jack was most likely still right inside at the bar keeping an eye on Watts for him. But suddenly Watts was at his elbow. "Hey, Mac, you okay? You're weaving all over the sidewalk here."

Mac took a step away and stumbled slightly. "I'm good. Thanks."

"See what happens when you drink on an empty stomach? You get a few years on you and you'll know better."

"Haha," he replied. Maybe a cab wasn't the worst idea.

"Let's get a cab and get you back to your apartment, Mac. Before you fall down out here."

Watts hand was on his arm, applying firm pressure to steer him toward the grey sedan that had just pulled up in front of the bar.

He pulled away. "I said I'm fine."

"You don't look fine, Mac," Wanda said, materializing on the other side of him. She put both hands on his other arm.

 _Crap. I should have seen this coming. I thought just downing that beer would put them off their guard, make them think I was an easy mark so they'd relax and I could get out of here._ "No, really, I'm great," he said out loud, like he really thought they were just trying to help.

Watts was back to holding his other arm. They were nearly at the car. The driver got out and opened the rear passenger door. "What kind of classmate would I be, if I didn't make sure you got to where you belonged, MacGyver?"

 _Notice how he didn't say make sure you got home._

 _Only one thing to do now._

Mac let all of his weight drop, like maybe he'd finally passed out. Their grip on his arms tightened. He used his legs, powerfully strong from his Hollywood Hills running addiction, to push off from the sidewalk hard, turning a complete backflip, that simultaneously loosened their grip and had him landing on his feet. He twisted the rest of the way free and bolted, somewhat drunkenly into the crowd and down the nearest alleyway.

He heard someone shout. He was also convinced he could hear them pursuing him, but he didn't pause to check. There was a chain link fence at the end of the alley and he was up and over it almost without thinking. He heard the fabric of his jeans tear and felt the cool evening suddenly air conditioning his leg near the knee, but he dropped onto the ground and kept running, changing direction and slipping down side streets frequently.

Once he heard the call of, "Over there!" and some answering shouts, but he went over another fence and cut through some small backyards. He just kept moving. Eventually, his increasingly rubbery legs let him down and he wiped out on some wet pavement. He'd been going fast enough that he skidded for several feet, flat on his face.

"Ow," he puffed, pushing himself up off the ground. When his arms confounded him by giving out under his weight, he flipped over onto his back, looking up into the night sky. Channeling Jack for a moment he just sighed, "Well, shit."

It wasn't especially late, but it was dark. Lights were on in most of the houses. If anyone stepped out to walk the dog, no doubt they'd call the police if they saw some dude laying in the middle of their quiet street. No doubt the school was tapped into local law enforcement. He needed to get out of sight and figure out what to to next.

It only took about four tries to get to his feet. He stumbled toward the hedges lining the front of several houses in a row and did his best to get himself in the shadows of them, without looking too much like that's what he was doing. He got near the corner and squinted up at the street sign.

He shook his head to clear it. The letters swam in front of him and no matter how hard he concentrated he couldn't make them form a word his brain could recognize. He hazily remembered that happening after his shoulder surgery and after they'd fixed his leg up after the graze he'd sustained in the warehouse incident.

 _Great. I have no idea where I am, no way to figure it out, and I feel like I'm gonna fall asleep standing here staring at this sign like a drunk cat._ He snickered at his own thought. _Whoo, I feel looped._ He wanted to be worried about that. He knew the team from the school was probably chasing him. That was their whole job tonight. But he felt pretty relaxed. His brain didn't want to work properly. The drug had blunted all his sharp edges and made mush of the neatly ordered filing cabinet of his mind.

 _Oh, wait. My phone._ He drew it out of his jacket pocket. _Damn it. The numbers don't make sense either._

He fell back on his default strategy and just took a deep breath. Jack was the only one he'd called on this phone. _The green button ought to do it._

"Mac! Where are you?" was how Jack answered the phone. He didn't wait for Mac to answer though. "The whole neighborhood is crawling with folks from the school lookin' for you. You back at the motel?"

"I have no idea where I am."

"You sound drunk."

"Not drunk … drugged. You knew that though," he grumbled.

"When you tipped up that beer I figured you whipped up some antidote in the bathroom."

"I'd have to know what they slipped me. I just figured it's usually hard to knock me out. The anesthesiologist bitched about it when they fixed my shoulder." He sat down on the ground, no longer able to keep his feet without falling over. "He must've given me a lot though. I can hardly keep my eyes open," he admitted.

Jack was suddenly more than a little glad he'd blown up the septic system with that grenade when it was his turn in this particular meat grinder. This seemed like overkill for entry level operatives. They'd definitely drugged Mac pretty good. His speech was starting to slur slightly. Best to get to him sooner rather than later. "Can you tell me anything about where are are, kid?" Jack asked, climbing into his rental car.

"I'm … It's a nice neighborhood. Culdesac. There's a pink house that looks like this dollhouse Penny Parker had when we were kids that had been her mom's. We kinda burned it down by accident though."

Jesus, the kid sounded downright wrecked. Best to keep him taking. He knew the general direction Mac had taken off in from tailing Watts and listening to him calling back and forth with his handler from the school. He'd just start doing around that way looking for a pink house. "Burned down a Barbie house by accident, huh?"

"Yeah, we … well … _I_ … tried to make thermite and …"

"How old were you when you decided to make thermite?"

"Nine? I think. I don't remember. She was pissed though."

Jack frowned with concern suddenly. "Mac, you alright? You sound different."

"Um … I'm … okay. I needed to lay down to stop the spinning."

"Where are you laying down?" he asked almost sharply.

"On the ground …"

"Out in the open?" This time the question was definitely sharp.

"Nuhuh. In the bushes where nobody can see me," he said, then there was a long pause.

"Mac? Mac, buddy?"

"Ugh, I don't feel awesome." Another pause. "You think you're gonna find …"

This time when Mac trailed off he didn't come back on the line.

"Mac? Mac? Mac?!" No answer. _Shit._ He frowned, turning onto a side street, carefully visually scanning the area. He might regret this later, but he put the call on hold and called Thornton. "Hey, Boss," he greeted casually. "You happened to have that cute analyst's phone number. Nancy or Nellie or whatever her name is?"

"Nikki? What do you need Nikki Carpenter's phone number at eight o'clock at night when you're supposed to be in DC watching … an important package?"

"Would you like that package returned in one piece?"

"Don't be dramatic, Jack. That package is in no actual danger."

"Maybe not if the people handling it were better at their jobs that'd be true. But they screwed up and he took off and now _the package_ is passed out in the bushes somewhere!"

"How on earth would you know that?"

"He got a burner and been keeping in touch."

He heard a soft surprised chuckle. "Alright. I'll send you Nikki's number. You're going to need somewhere to hole up until he sleeps this off."

"We're all set. He's already got a place off the radar."

Another laugh, this one more audible. "Of course he does." She paused. "Good luck."

She ended the call and a moment later Jack's phone chimed with Nikki's contact info. Jack didn't hesitate. "Hey, it's Dalton. I need a favor."

0-0-0

The urgent whisper was almost as quiet as the misting rain filling the night. "Mac? Mac, buddy?"

Mac shifted a little. Something was pulling him from his sleep. But it was dark. Not time to get up at all. _Boze better not have scared himself with some dumb horror movie again,_ he grumped to himself and tried to peel his eyes open.

Only one of them cooperated. The other eye seemed stuck stubbornly closed. He reached up tentatively and touched his cheek beneath it. "Ow!" There was a decent scrape there, sticky with a small amount of drying blood. _What the hell?_ Then it started to come back to him. He had cash. Maybe instead of a cab he could find some teenager willing to drive him to his motel to sleep this off.

"Mac! C'mon, kid!"

Finally he remembered calling Jack. But he'd passed out mid-sentence.? How in the hell had he found him? _Doesn't matter._ "I'm here!" he called out, trying unsuccessfully to get to his feet.

His eyes closed again, but then Jack was beside him. "Hey, bud. You stay put. I'm gonna move the car closer."

"Mmmmmm. 'Kay."

Afterward, Mac would have vague memories of climbing into the sedan on practically dead legs, of weaving through traffic in a way that made his stomach roll. He would remember thinking it was a good thing he'd called for help instead of defaulting to his usual method of trying to go it alone, because he couldn't make the motel key work. He'd remember falling into bed, being given a damp cloth to clean off his scraped eye with. Then there was a water bottle put into his hand and Jack admonishing him to drink or he'd wake up with one hell of a headache. He'd remember closing his eyes to the image of Jack parked in a chair by the window, keeping watch in case they'd been followed.

When Mac woke the next morning, he knew none of it had been a dream because Jack was still there.


	10. Chapter 10

"Morning," Mac said blearily, rolling onto his back.

Jack turned away from the window and flashed him a big grin. "There he is!" Jack eyed the way Mac was just lying there staring up at the ceiling. "How you feelin', kid?"

"What time is it?" Mac asked, starting to force himself up to sitting.

Jack shook his head at his young friend's non-answer. "Almost noon." He half smirked when Mac flopped back against the pillow. "So like I said … How are you feeling?" he asked again, enunciating every word.

Mac rubbed his forehead. "Hung over," he admitted. "And a little pissed that I didn't get that way having any fun."

"I figured. What time's the graduation thingy?"

Mac had to think about it for a minute. "Five?"

But it was only a guess. He found that his memories of the entire previous day were a little fuzzy and difficult to access.

Jack sat down on the edge of the bed, seemingly producing an orange Gatorade out of nowhere. Mac glared at the smirk he was wearing. It wasn't like Jack to take any pleasure in his misery. Then the smirk grew and he spoke. "Good. That leaves plenty of time for Elliot to stop by."

Headache be damned, Mac sat up. "You called Elliot? What for? I'm fine!"

Jack started laughing. "The look on your face! Priceless." Mac's glare intensified. "I'm just winding you up. I called Elliot because he mentioned he's a genius at disguises and make up. And I thought, what better way for you to cap off your epic evasion of any part of the real final than to walk in to graduation lookin' fresh as a daisy with no visible evidence that you absolutely ate shit on the pavement and used your face to break your fall."

"Okay." Mac laughed a little, then reached up to gently touch his cheek. "Sssst," he hissed. Then he grinned. "I like your idea. Especially since I bet Glover is losing her shit about now. Almost makes me feel bad for Watts. Almost."

Mac unscrewed the top of the Gatorade and took a sip. Jack gestured at Mac's highly visible bruises. "I don't. At all."

"Ugh." Mac made a face. "I do less and less."

"Whatsamatter, kid?"

"Upset stomach." He took a couple of deep breaths. "At least that narrows down what they dosed me with."

"Huh?"

Mac took another careful sip of the Gatorade. "Your first guess was probably right. High doses of Chloral Hydrate cause gastric distress, difficulty waking up, headache, all the stuff I'm feeling right about now. And it makes sense since it's a hypnotic, it's been used for interrogation and I'm sure one of the objectives of the final would have been to get me to give up the code word from the first interrogation exercise."

Jack nodded. "Can I getcha anything?"

Mac nodded slowly. "If I remember right, the kidneys deal with the metabolites. The Gatorade is great. More of that, water, anything uncaffeinated to drink would be perfect." Mac moved to get out of bed, pausing when the room spun again. To give himself a minute, without admitting that what he really wanted to do was lie back down, he asked, "Any word from Thornton about O'Neill?"

Jack smiled faintly at Mac's lame attempt to avoid vulnerability. Then his face slipped into a frown and he shook his head. "Radio silence so far today. From Nikki, too, which is a little weird."

Mac's eyes lit up just a bit. "Nikki?"

"She was the one who helped me track you down last night. She used your burner phone for me." He grinned again at the look on Mac's face. "She was real concerned about you."

Mac suddenly found it easier to get to his feet. "I'll have find a way to thank her for her help when we get back to LA."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll think of somethin', kid." He almost laughed when Mac blushed. "I'm gonna go get you some more Gatorade and water from the place around the corner." He paused. "Want me to grab you some food?"

"God, no." He looked vaguely green. "I'm gonna take a shower; see if I can shake the cobwebs out."

"Alright, kid. Back in ten."

"Thanks, man," Mac said with a nod, and headed into the motel room's tiny bathroom.

He turned the water all the way up to its hottest setting and dropped the lid on the toilet so he could just sit for a minute. He still felt about half in the bag, and he was nauseous. Not to mention sore all over from wiping out when he was evading Watts and whoever else had been chasing him.

Without getting up from his seat, he leaned into the shower and turned on the water as hot as it would go. Then he sat back, resting his arm on the sink, and leaning forward to rest his head on it for a minute or two. He closed his eyes. They snapped open again when he heard the door.

"Hey, Mac! You still in the shower?" Jack called.

"Be right out!" Mac answered. Then he speed-showered and dressed. He skipped shaving, both to save time and because the pavement had done the job on half his face for him, he thought ruefully. He couldn't believe he'd zoned out the whole time Jack was gone. He thought maybe Jack knew it, too, based on the look he gave him when he stepped out of the bathroom, but he didn't say anything, just handed Mac another Gatorade. "Thanks, man."

Mac sat back down on the bed, trying not to make faces every time he got a whiff of Jack's convenience store sausage egg and cheese breakfast sandwich, with limited success. Jack didn't comment on it, but finished the sandwich quickly and popped a stick of gum. Mac nodded appreciatively around his drink.

Jack got a tissue from the box beside the bed and passed it to him. "Your cheek is bleeding again, bud."

Mac took the tissue and pressed it to the spot under his eye. "Maybe shouldn't have run full tilt on wet pavement all doped up I guess."

"I imagine it was better than the alternative, kid. You shoulda seen how many of the instructors and whatnot they had out lookin' for you. I hadta circle the block a couple times not to give you away."

Even drugged he'd done alright. He figured Thornton wouldn't hate hearing that. That actually made Mac feel better. "How many?" he asked with a slight grin.

"I didn't exactly count," Jack chuckled. "But I made at least five cars." The single nod and half wink was one of Jack's most approving expressions. "Ya did good, kid."

A brisk knock on the motel room door interrupted them. Mac felt trapped for a second or two, almost panicked. _What if it's Watts? There's still hours until you're officially done._

Fortunately, when Jack opened the door, it was just Elliot. He was carrying what Mac recognized as a professional makeup case (having Boze and Penny for friends gave a guy some weird frames of reference). He took one look at Mac and shook his head. "I think maybe you look worse than if they picked you up. Glover frowns on her trainees making each other any less pretty."

Mac snickered. "You think you can cover it up? I love Jack's idea of spinning their heads a little."

"Maybe." Elliot's brows knitted together. He stepped closer for a better look. "You clean that up last night?"

Mac looked to Jack. "I don't remember. Did I?"

Jack tipped a hand from side to side in a slightly prevaricating gesture. "Wet washcloth. Didn't have anything else on hand. Plus by the time we got back here he was about done in. Thought I was gonna hafta carry him in from the car."

Mac rolled his eyes. He'd easily gotten in here under his own steam. He remembered that much. "I washed the hell out of it in the shower this morning," Mac put in.

Elliot shook his head again. He gestured at Mac's cheek. "May I?"

Mac shrugged. "I guess." He tipped his face up for Elliot's inspection. Elliot reaches out and guided Mac's face into better light.

"That looks like it hurts."

"It doesn't feel _good_ ," Mac agreed. "I mean, I can't say I've ever been a fan of road rash, but I really don't love it on my face."

"I don't love hearing that you didn't clean it properly, and if you weren't you, I'd be inclined to chew you out about it. Since you _are_ you and you _were_ drugged I'm gonna give you a pass." He squinted at the scrape. Then he looked at Jack as he went to open what was ostensibly a makeup case. "You don't get a pass though, Overwatch. Bring a first aid kit on your next rescue mission, huh?"

Despite the teasing tone, Jack looked thoroughly chastened. Mac shook his head, but he was grinning. "Don't encourage him, Elliot. He's bad enough all on his own." Elliot turned back around with gloves, gauze, a bottle of clear liquid with a nozzle, and a tube of something. Mac raised an eyebrow. "That doesn't look like makeup."

Elliot rolled his eyes, pulled on the gloves, and dampened the gauze with the contents of the bottle. "I'm not sure we're going to be able to cover that. Although it was a pretty good idea. What we can do is make sure you don't get a nasty infection, and minimize any scarring."

Mac sighed. "Better than nothing, I guess." Mac closed the eye on that side. Someone else's hand that close to it made him want to pull away. "Ssssst," he hissed when Elliot dabbed at his cheek with the gauze. "What is that? Acid?" He groused.

"Saline," Elliot answered wryly. "That's a pretty nasty abrasion, Mac." He inspected it more closely now that it was freshly cleaned. "When was your last tetanus shot?"

Mac's eye opened again so both of them could regard Elliot with amusement. "It's not deep."

"I can see that."

"It's a scrape."

"Yeah. One that stayed dirty long enough that there's some staining there. So …"

It was Mac's turn to roll his eyes. "When I enlisted." Elliot raised a single eyebrow. Another eyeroll. "2009."

Elliot tossed the gauze into the bedside trash and reached for the tube. "Good enough." He uncapped it. "This is antibiotic ointment. Which will hopefully a) keep your eye from rotting out of your head even though you probably rubbed your face in DC sewage and b) keep the scarring to a minimum if you use it to keep the wound covered."

Mac held out a hand to take the ointment. "It stinks," he observed.

"Consider that a deterrent from future efforts to fix potholes with your face." Elliot took off the gloves and tossed those too. "Doing okay otherwise?" he called toward the bathroom, where Mac had disappeared to.

There was a pause, where Mac was focused on the task of keeping his face from getting infected, although he was presently more worried about the aforementioned scar. He was doing a lot of thinking about getting back to LA, which meant Nikki, among other things. Jack was always saying, "Chicks dig scars." But Mac didn't think Nikki was the sort of woman who actually felt that way. He was also pretty sure being referred to as a chick by Jack or anyone else would result in a complete digital identity wipe at her hands.

"Mac?" Elliot tried again.

"I'm good," he called back, giving his face one more once over before turning off the light and heading back out into the room. "I mean, I probably should have had a better plan than chug the beer I know they doped and hope I can get away fast enough. But I'm bouncing back, I think." He sat back down on the bed a little heavily. "Mostly."

"Any sense what they gave you? I might be able to suggest something to help."

Mac sighed. "Pretty sure it was knockout drops."

"Amateurs," Elliot sniffed. "Who still uses a Mickey Finn? Glover is such a throwback sometimes."

"There isn't anything for it, is there?" Mac asked, not quite ready to give up hope.

Ellliot shook his head. "Not really, unfortunately." Mac looked so dejected, he contemplated him for a moment. "But, I may have gotten an idea of how we can cover that so you don't look as bad as you feel. It'll take a little time though."

Mac grinned. "We've got hours. Let's do it."

0-0-0

The thin prosthetic patch was itchy, but it looked flawless. He felt like Glover kept staring at him during their brief closing ceremony. Only a handful of recruits had made it this far, and most of them, including Watts, looked a little worse for wear. Mac was starting to stiffen up and be a little sore all over from his little adventure, but plenty of fluids, and the promise of a nap on the flight home, along with the fact that Elliot had been able to send him in here looking like a million bucks, kept his easy smile in place.

After they collected their certificates and accepted Glover's congratulations on their accomplishments, the agents were invited to a dinner and social hour. Predictably, Mac said quick goodbye, and planned to duck out and head to the airport.

Watts trotted up to him on his way out the door, calling his name. Mac stopped and turned, offering his best no-hard-feelings expression. "Hey, Watts. I'm heading out."

"Congratulations, Mac." Watts tone was stiff, but his expression was one of genuine admiration.

"Thanks, man. You, too."

One corner of Watts lips curled up. "Good thing my other scores were high. You nearly washed me out between Interrogation and your final."

Mac shrugged. "I'd apologize … But I wouldn't mean it."

Watts snorted a grudging laugh then and extended a hand. Mac shook it. "Take care out there."

Mac nodded. "I will. You do the same."

"I don't suppose you're gonna tell me how you gave us the slip, huh?"

Mac grinned. "Nope."

He turned to go and got about ten steps when Watts called goodnaturedly at his back, "Maybe someday I'll get that code work outta you!"

Mac turned and grinned. "You probably could've guessed it …" The grin broadened. "Paperclip."

He tipped Watts a little salute and left.

He had a plane to catch.


	11. Chapter 11

Mac looked around, taking everything in.

 _So this is the War Room. Tech heavy, a little Spartan, formal. Kind of like Thornton._

The boss walked in and tapped the glass as she closed the door. It all frosted over in a split second.

 _And it has magic windows. That's pretty cool._

Despite his half amused thoughts about the situation, her unreadable expression had him shift into an almost unconscious posture of attention. Jack smirked at him from where he was sprawled in a nearby chair, but Mac kept his eyes on the boss. "Ma'am," he greeted formally.

He'd been given two weeks off after returning from school and he'd spent it a little worried he was in trouble for ditching the final, among other possibilities, like her knowing it was him that blew up the air conditioner.

When her mouth quirked into what he was learning to recognize as a real smile, he relaxed. He wasn't quite 'at ease', but it was a shade less tense than the 'parade rest' he'd unconsciously been holding himself in. "Congratulations, Mac. The glowing report I received from the training academy makes me feel even better about my decision to send you on an assignment today."

He gave no indication that Jack had already spilled those particular beans, like weeks ago. "Thank you, Director Thornton. I'm looking forward to it," he lied smoothly.

He really wasn't. He didn't care for the way CIA operated and Jack had already told him this was going to be a joint op. But a mission was a mission and would solidify his status as an agent. He hadn't been sure he wanted this for himself at first, but now that he'd completed the training and had held the idea for awhile, it was starting to feel right.

"Take a seat, and I'll begin the briefing. You'll have time on your flight to study the details, so this will be broad strokes." She indicated the chair across from Jack.

Mac sat down, fidgeting a little. This was so different from what he was used to. He was excited, but unsettled too. Jack grinned and passed him a paperclip off some of Thornton's papers that were set off to the side.

Mac began bending it. Thornton raised a single eyebrow but just hit a few keys on her tablet and the monitors in front of them flashed to life. Mac continued to bend the little bit of wire and turned his attention to the screen.

"You'll be joining several CIA operatives and their handler in Jakarta, Indonesia …" she began.

Mac sat forward, determined to make his first mission a success.

0-0-0

"Mac, buddy." Mac looked up from the papers he'd been combing over for hours, now scattered in nonsensical disarray across his desk. His eyes had the sleepless hollow look Jack expected when he'd shown up at Mac's with bagels and found his partner already gone to work. "You gotta stop beating yourself up over this."

"Two agents died, Jack," he said in a voice that might have been colorless, but for the self-recrimination running beneath the surface. "And I'm not beating myself up," he hurried to add. "I'm just trying understand what happened, where we went wrong. I'm trying to learn from it so it doesn't happen again."

Jack shook his head and sat down in the comfortable corner chair he was pretty sure Thornton had put in Mac's office expressly for him. "We didn't go wrong anywhere, bud. Waller went off the rails … And Griggs and Hadley … I feel bad about 'em, too, kid, but they decided to play cowboy and follow Waller's lead, man. We did what we could. You screwed all those explosives and saved a bunch of civilian lives and … we made it home. It's too bad that they didn't but …"

Mac scrubbed his hands over his face and through his hair. "I get it, Jack. But … leaving somebody behind … even if everything tells you they were just a body, even if everything tells you all that's left is ash … it feels like unfinished business."

Mac sighed, but Jack was nodding, suddenly realizing exactly why Mac was taking this so hard. "Too much like O'Neill and Zwickey, huh?"

Mac swallowed. "Yeah."

"You heard from Zack lately?"

Mac's eyes lowered to the mission report again, but quickly returned to Jack's face. "Yeah. He sent me some pictures from Hawaii from the vacation he didn't really want to take. He's doing well. As well as he can be anyway." Mac paused. "Has Thornton given you anything new about O'Neill?"

That wasn't actually the train of thought Jack had been going for, but mission focused was better for Mac than brooding about mistakes that weren't his own. "Nothin'" he said with a half-irritated shrug. "Wanna go bug her about it with me?" He gave a mischievous double raise of his eyebrows.

Mac immediately got up from his desk. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

0-0-0

"I wish I could offer you more information, Mac," Thornton said with genuine sympathy.

She'd had to admit to DXS raiding a compound in Pakistan that had been a suspected terrorist training camp and all the intel pointed to O'Neill having been there. Mac had been at school when the word came down from Oversight that the mission was a go. But they'd found nothing.

Mac was mutilating a paperclip again while she talked. When it broke, Thornton herself got the small bowl of them off her desk and put it on the coffee table in front of him. He immediately picked up another one and started twisting it.

Thornton went on, describing the various avenues of investigations and dead ends stemming all the way back to when they'd extracted Mac in Afghanistan. Intel had been patchy and unreliable since then. Thornton had Nikki working on something on the Dark Web, but she wouldn't go into details with him or with Jack. Not yet. "I know this is weighing on you, Mac. And I'm sorry."

Mac nodded. "But DXS is still looking?"

"Of course we are. He's a credible threat to our national security." Then she smiled, just a little. "Besides, I tend to hold grudges. Coming after my people on my turf is not something I'm going to let go." She regarded them both almost fondly. "Hurting my people is grounds for taking the fight to their door."

He tipped her a small smile. "Thank you." He meant it. "If it's possible, ma'am … I'd like to be included on the next … I mean … we did talk about that when I signed on and …"

She smiled again. "Mac, you're an agent now. And despite the story you're clearly telling yourself if the circles under your eyes are any indication, you did incredibly well on your first mission. The sins of the CIA are not yours to bear. As far as I'm concerned your probation ended when you disarmed those weapons and made it to exfil."

He didn't even try to deny being exhausted. Thornton was too good at reading people for that. So he just nodded again. "Thank you, ma'am. I appreciate that."

"As soon as I have actionable intel on O'Neill we'll move. And of course you'll be on the team."

Mac's face split into an involuntary grin. "Thank you, Director. Really."

"You're welcome. Dismissed."

He started to rise.

"And by dismissed I mean get out of here, go home, eat a real meal, and get some sleep. Jack's going to make sure that happens for me."

Mac blushed faintly. It was bothersome that his habits over the last week or so were that transparent, not just to Jack, but to his boss, too. But all he said was, "Yea, ma'am."

Thornton watched them as they left. Jack asked Mac what he wanted to eat and Mac said In-N-Out Burger. Jack clapped him on the shoulder approvingly. Mac just grinned and shook his head in the self deprecating way she was coming to associate with him. She bent to pick up the dish of paper clips she'd given Mac to fidget with and saw the little twist he'd been turning over in his fingers.

Thornton's head tilted to one side. She'd noticed that he sometimes made them into the shape of something that was on his mind. This paperclip had become a stick of dynamite. She wasn't sure if he'd made it because he was worried about O'Neill building more bombs, or if it was just that he himself felt like a powder keg.

Either way, she sensed it wouldn't be long before the lid blew off the situation.


End file.
